


I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse)

by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Blow Jobs, Buck Said I Used to Have Casual Sex All the Time I Can Handle This, But SOMEBODY Named EDDIE Decided to Blow RIGHT Past That, But a Sexy Trainwreck, Do Not Be Like Them, Dom/sub, Eddie Diaz Said I Haven't Had Regular Sex in a Decade I Can Handle This, Edgeplay, Emotional Constipation of the Highest Order, Every Chapter Their Stupidity Grows, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Hand Jobs, How Many Ways Can These Two Be Idiots? Read and Find Out!, M/M, Maestro Play 'I Won't Say I'm in Love' from Hercules, Multiple Orgasms, News at eleven, Not the Smartest Sexual Choices Made Here, POV Alternating, Season/Series 02, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Soft Eddie Diaz, Spoiler Alert: Neither of Them Could Handle It, There's a Lot of Sex in Here Considering Nobody is Talking about Feelings, These Boys Blindly Stumbled Sideways Into BDSM, This WAS Tagged LIGHT Dom/Sub, Topping from the Bottom, Two Absolute Morons Think They Can Have Casual Sex Without Catching Feelings, idiots to lovers, this is going to be a trainwreck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/pseuds/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
Summary: When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?There's no way this could possibly go wrong.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 1158
Kudos: 1734





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a smut bunny, the smut bunny escaped its cage and got away from me, extasiswings slyly fed the smut bunny carrots while my back was turned, and long story short here we are.
> 
> Translation into Russian available here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/9514074
> 
> Translation into Chinese available here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596792

The first thing Buck thinks when he sees the new guy is _oh no, he’s hot._ The world seems to go into slow-motion. He swears he hears music.

The second thing Buck thinks when he sees the new guy is _what the fuck is he doing in my station._

Okay, so maybe he’s a little cranky because with some encouragement from Maddie (who arrived in town yesterday) he and Abby had a proper talk for the first time in weeks and officially broke it off. Buck’s not exactly inclined to listen to Maddie on _all_ things, since she did up and be good as gone from his life for years—thanks, Doug—but she was only telling him what his mind had already been whispering.

Doesn’t mean that the break up doesn’t hurt.

So he’s cranky, sure. And Eddie Diaz (that’s the fucker’s name) is confident, and handsome, and funny, and fine as hell, and daring, and pretty, and dedicated, and sexy, and…

Ahem.

It’s a lot for a guy to handle, okay?

Buck’s spoiling for a fight, and the confusing dance his stomach does whenever Eddie looks at him gives him the perfect excuse to be a brat, and even though Chim and Bobby and everyone else is giving him the side eye, he just can’t seem to stop. He fell in love, really in love, for the first time in his life and once again he was abandoned, and he just wants someone to yell at. And if it provides the added bonus of Eddie’s near-constant attention, well. Icing on the cake.

Except Eddie’s not playing back. He’s not posturing, he’s not snapping. Buck feels almost like a dog getting rapped on the nose with a newspaper. In the gym, Eddie doesn’t lose his cool. He seems almost _amused._ Like he _knows_ what he’s doing to Buck, like he knows Buck’s drowning and just swinging his arms wildly to see who he can punch, like he knows his stupid pretty face is making Buck’s entire body squirm and heat up.

Maybe he’s being a bit of a jerk. Just a little.

A bomb isn’t exactly what most people would call a meet cute or a place to bond, but Buck can tell Eddie warms to him after that. And he can’t help but feel a bit warmer himself, basking in Eddie’s smile.

“You can have my back any day,” Eddie says, and Buck knows it’s probably nothing, but it sounds like more—or maybe he just wants it to be more, since he’s lonely and hasn’t had sex in months and he’s realizing he likes Eddie being pleased with him.

“Or you could have mine,” he blurts out, throwing in a bit of sauciness, just to see, just to test.

Eddie’s gaze flickers, maybe—just maybe—his eyes get a little darker, and Buck wonders if maybe there’s another way to get out all his frustration.

* * *

“Another story to tell the family, right?”

They’re stripping down in the locker room, and Chim’s rolling his eyes because they all know how he used to steal their stories for Tatiana.

“I don’t think Karen will want to know about this one,” Hen says, grabbing her stuff. “Have a good night!”

Buck waves at her, then turns to Eddie. “What about you? Anybody to impress?”

Eddie shakes his head. “My kid’s too young to hear about that kind of thing.”

A kid. Buck glances down, tries to be subtle. No wedding ring. “You got a kid? I love kids.”

Eddie pulls out a picture of a smiling, golden-haired boy. Buck can feel himself grinning. He really does love kids and this guy’s adorable. “His name’s Christopher.”

“He’s cute.” Buck hands the picture back. “What about his mom?”

Eddie tucks the picture away and grabs supplies for the showers. “She’s… not in the picture. Divorced.”

“That sucks, man.” _Eddie’s single Eddie’s single Eddie’s single—_

“It is what it is.” That’s a shut door if Buck ever heard one, but he’s an expert at prying things open. After all, he’s a firefighter.

Eddie heads for the showers and Buck…

_Carpe diem._

Buck follows.

“So nobody to brag to, huh?” he asks, quickly stripping off his clothes so he doesn’t get them blasted with water.

Eddie glances over his shoulder, and the look on his face seems to be trapped somewhere between _are you fucking kidding me_ and _oh this is adorable_. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who uses heroic stories to get into people’s pants.”

Not anymore. “Nah, I just bat my eyelashes.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet that works wonders.”

“Y’know, I do know sarcasm when I hear it.”

“Do you?” Eddie turns to face him fully and it hits Buck like a delayed webpage loading that oh, yeah, they’re both naked.

 _Go big or go home._ “So are we going to do something about…” He gestures between them. “This? Or are we going to keep ignoring it?”

“What, the obvious alpha male posturing?” Eddie asks. “Or the fact that you want to sleep with me? Because I’m gonna tell you I got enough of the former while I was in the military and as for the latter, we’re coworkers.”

“Nothing against coworkers having a little fun.”

“I have a kid.” Eddie puts his hands on his hips and oh, okay, nope, eyes up top, Buck. “I just moved here. The last thing I’m looking for is complications.”

“Well lucky for you I’m a simple guy. As anyone around here will tell you.” Yeah, he’s aware of the joke about his intelligence, but whatever. “I’m great at keeping things uncomplicated.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, then reaches for him. Buck’s heart races—

—and then skips a beat as he’s blasted with cold water. He yelps, ducking out of the way as Eddie finishes turning on the showers.

The look of smug satisfaction on Eddie’s face is _not_ attractive. At all.

“Real funny.” Buck wipes his face off and gets the water out of his eyes.

“Oh, hilarious,” Eddie agrees seriously. His eyes crinkle up at the corners when he smiles.

Buck stands there, not quite sure what to do. The water’s warm, now, feels good, and it sure as hell _looks_ good, sliding down Eddie’s body. Eddie’s not saying or doing anything, but he’s not kicking Buck out, either.

He debates for about ten seconds before he thinks, fuck it. He did the mature thing and waited for sex and did everything right and it still got his heart dashed to pieces. Why not be a little reckless? “You saying you’d object if I wanted to blow you?”

Eddie inhales a mouthful of water and splutters fantastically for a few seconds. The look he gives Buck when he’s finished is impressive. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Buck shrugs. “Don’t have the time for it.”

And he really wants to get his mouth on Eddie’s cock. Like, that’s kind of all he’s been able to think about since the grenade.

Eddie’s eyes narrow, and for a second Buck’s certain he’s going to get hit with a talk about sexual harassment from Bobby in the morning, but then Eddie plants his hand on the tiled wall and says, oh so casually, “Well, if you’ve got your heart set on it.”

Oh hell _yes._

Buck’s been very diligently restricting his ogling to Eddie’s face and shoulders (what, they’re great shoulders, broad and tan and perfect for biting during sex), so it’s not until he sinks to his knees—carefully, the floor’s tiled and this is the only pair of knees he’s got—that he looks at Eddie’s cock and realizes it’s hard.

Ha.

Playing it cool and casual and this whole time he wanted Buck just as much as Buck wanted him. Buck is never letting him live this down. He looks up at Eddie through his lashes, a trick he’s learned works wonders when he’s about to eat someone out. “And here you are acting like it’s such a big chore to get your dick sucked.”

“Maybe I just like the idea of your mouth being too full to talk.” Eddie’s hand comes around to cradle the back of Buck’s head, his fingers combing through the short hair, tugging oh so slightly to get Buck’s head in place.

A shiver works through him. Jesus, that feels good. He hasn’t had a dry spell like this since he first discovered what sex _was,_ and just the intimate touch of another person has his cock rising and his blood singing.

He leans in, nuzzling Eddie’s thigh, savoring the scent of another person, the feel of skin beneath his mouth again. And maybe he’s, ah, delaying things just a little, as he eyes the rather impressive dick in front of him, because. Well.

Here’s the thing that Buck kind of didn’t mention to Eddie.

He’s never given a blow job before.

But like hell he’s going to let it stop him now that they’ve reached this point. And besides, he knows what _he_ likes, so it’s just a matter of remembering what that is and replicating it. This’ll be a breeze.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Eddie asks.

Buck glares up at him. “Have so.”

“You sure you’re twenty-seven? Because you sound like a five-year-old right now.”

Buck promptly takes as much of Eddie’s cock in his mouth as he can. He nearly takes too much and just barely saves himself from gagging, but Eddie makes a choked noise above him in response and that’s all that fucking matters.

“Ten points for enthusiasm,” Eddie mutters, and oh, it is so on now. He’s going to blow this guy’s mind.

Turns out, sucking dick is simultaneously eager and harder than he expected. Easy? Sucking. Holy shit. He could do this all day, he’s eaten ice cream cones that were more trouble than this.

Figuring out what exactly he’s supposed to do with his tongue? Difficult. Very difficult. It’s not until he has the bright idea of, _hey, what if he treats a dick like a really big clit,_ that he starts to get the hang of it.

He’s never had a woman complain about his oral skills, after all.

Eddie’s hand tightens in his hair and he swears under his breath. “Again,” he orders, a bit breathless, and Buck repeats the little twist he did with his tongue against the slit of Eddie’s cock. He shivers at the order, at the implications of it.

“Oh.” Eddie’s voice is like a revelation. “Oh, you like that. You like when I tell you what to do?”

He can’t really nod right now, so he hums.

Eddie’s grip tights further. “ _Suck_.”

His voice is a full-on growl and Buck’s cock jerks in response, electricity zapping every one of his limbs. Jesus, turns out there’s one place he really does like to be given orders.

“Jesus Christ, you should see yourself.” Eddie’s still growling, and now his hips are thrusting a little into Buck’s mouth, and Buck just lets his jaw go slack, lets Eddie use him. Eddie swears violently at that and speeds up, just a little, like he’s trying to hold himself back so he doesn’t hurt him, doesn’t go too far.

Buck feels like there’s a cat in his chest, purring, like he’d wag his tail if he had one, on his knees and being good and giving someone what they want. His jaw aches and his mouth is stretched but it feels so _good_ , and if he’d known he would like sucking dick this much, hell, he’d’ve done it years ago.

He can feel Eddie tense up, his cock jerking against Buck’s soft palate, and Buck tries to open his throat to get ready—only Eddie pulls Buck off his cock and turns, spilling into the spray of the shower, the evidence washed immediately down the drain.

Buck’s voice is raw when he tries to speak. “I was gonna—you didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t want to assume.” As if he’s trying to make up for showing some softness and consideration, Eddie hauls Buck to his feet, a sly look in his eyes. “Now, what _are_ we going to do with you?”

There’s a promise in his voice that Buck really, really hopes he’ll deliver on. He shamelessly plasters himself to Eddie’s front, lets Eddie feel his erection, and combs his fingers through all that thick, dark hair. Buck would kill to be able to run his fingers through it when it’s dry. Eddie’s hair always looks unbearably soft.

“Fuck me?” he says hopefully, grinding slow against Eddie’s hip. “I mean. I get recovery time, so… we can just make out until…”

Eddie’s hands find his waist and Buck whines, trying to catch Eddie’s mouth in a kiss. He wants that tongue counting his teeth, dammit.

“I’d let you,” he says, because oh, God, he would, he really would. Even though it’s reckless to let a guy you just met fuck you when you’ve never done it before. Buck’s gotten pretty far by being reckless.

“You’d _let_ me,” Eddie says, something sparking in his eyes, and the next thing Buck knows, he’s been turned around and pressed face-first against the wall.

“You really think I’d fuck you here?” Eddie’s voice is dark and utterly filthy and Buck’s fucking trembling. “Hell no. If I fucked you, I’d do it right, get you all laid out on a bed and really take you apart. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Buck’s nails are scabbling at the wet tile, trying to find a purchase that isn’t there. He’s never felt this raw in his entire life and he vaguely wonders if this is what drugs feel like because if it is, he understands how people get addicted.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s lips are right at the shell of his ear now, his voice a heated whisper. “One look at you, _boy,_ and I fuckin’ knew it. You just want someone to destroy you.”

Fucking yes he does.

Eddie bites at his ear right as his hand finds Buck’s aching cock and oh, oh _fuck._ Eddie’s pace is brutal, going from tight and hot to feather light, the tips of his fingers dancing up and down, drawing Buck to the edge and then leaving him there.

Buck’s real glad that he got good at being quiet because of Abby’s mom, otherwise the entire station would probably hear him moaning and begging right now.

Eddie’s plastered to his back, his free arm around Buck’s waist like a band of iron, and Buck feels like everywhere they touch is on fire. “Jesus.” Eddie sounds half in command, half in awe. “You really fucking need this, don’t you?”

“So do you,” Buck fires back. “Or you wouldn’t have said yes to me.”

Eddie growls and bites his neck, like a wolf holding down another so he can mount him, and Buck goes lightheaded with lust. He twists his wrist on the upstroke, sucking on Buck’s skin, grinding against Buck’s ass like he might actually fuck him after all, and Buck comes so hard he goes deaf for a second, his ears going silent and then buzzing like a nest of hornets.

Buck rests his forehead on the cool tile and Eddie licks apologetically at the spot he bit, his grip loosening. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, why you want someone to put you in your place, but next time, maybe try talking to a therapist instead of propositioning your coworker.”

Buck snorts. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

He turns, leaning back against the tile, as Eddie grabs the soap. “Does that mean I can’t come to you? After you made all those promises about… what was it… taking me apart?”

The look that Eddie gives him is incredulous. “You realize what would’ve happened if someone walked in here, right?”

Buck grins. “Ah, but nobody _did_ walk in here.”

Judging by the eye roll he gets in return, his comment is not appreciated.

“This?” Eddie gestures back and forth between them. “Was a one-time thing. We’re not doing this again.”

Buck nods, swallowing the disappointment that’s hot and acrid in his throat. “Sure thing.”

* * *

Well, obviously by ‘again’ Eddie meant ‘in the station’ because one week later they’re in the back of Buck’s car and Eddie’s mouth is attached to his neck like he’s a fucking vampire.

A car isn’t exactly the best place for maneuverability, so Buck’s not getting the fucking he was sort-of promised last time, but he doesn’t really care when he’s got a leg wrapped around Eddie’s waist and they’re grinding against each other like teenagers in the high school parking lot.

He rucks up Eddie’s shirt, gets his hands on all that smooth, warm skin on his back, and digs his nails in as Eddie gives a particularly hard thrust. He’s so fucking turned on he’s seeing stars and he should probably, y’know, suggest they take this somewhere else but he _can’t_ , he can’t—his cock’s trapped underneath Eddie’s body, inside his pants, and Eddie’s _mouth_ , and his hands, he’s—

His orgasm gives him vivid flashbacks to the less-than-glamorous trysts he got up to as a sixteen-year-old, but he doesn’t care because it feels so damn _good_. Eddie groans and thrusts harder, frantic, and he once again bites, this time Buck’s chest, as he comes.

Buck’s lying down, but he’s still dizzy. “I demand a proper bed next time.”

“There’s not gonna be a next time.” Eddie’s authority is somewhat diminished by the fact that his face is mashed into Buck’s shoulder.

The next moment, Eddie’s leveraging himself up and off of Buck. “We shouldn’t even have done that this time.”

“Why?” Buck follows him, sitting up, and nearly bangs his head on the roof of the car. “We’re two guys who don’t have time to date—I don’t even want to fucking date right now—you’ve got a kid—why not just use each other, y’know? I’m here, you’re here, I’m hot, you’re hot, our schedules line up, I’m not seeing a downside to this.”

“Of course you don’t see a downside,” Eddie mutters.

They regard each other for a moment, and Buck knows this is a serious conversation, but also his pants are soaked and they’re gonna start feeling tacky and gross any second now. “Look, I get it, you want to be smart. But I’m offering you a no-strings-attached-free-sex-whenever card so.” He shrugs. “If you ever decide you want to help me test out my new mattress, you know where to find me.”

Eddie’s dark eyes watch him for a second, his fingers tapping on Buck’s knee—Buck’s pretty sure Eddie’s not aware he’s doing it—and then he pulls back. “Yeah, I do know where to find you.”

He backs up and out of Buck’s car, and it’s a good thing Buck didn’t have any dignity to start with, otherwise he’d be feeling pretty undignified right about now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, I have now added extasiswings as a co-creator, since she's been helping me brainstorm and has talked through every bit of this with me, given ideas, etc... and it's inevitable that I'm going to shove these two idiots at her going HERE, YOU TAKE THEM. XD

Eddie really has zero intention of fucking Buck. Now or ever.

Because—here’s the thing—Buck was annoying and cocky and wanted to measure dicks and Eddie is so not here for that. And then Buck was clearly looking for a rebound, and again, Eddie’s not here for that.

And _now,_ Buck’s his _friend_. The first real friend he’s had since he got out of the military. And he’s not going to mess that up just because Buck also happens to have a mouthwatering ass.

Buck doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo, though. The idiot’s flirting with Eddie every chance he gets, giving Eddie these coy looks, walking so close their shoulders constantly bump, turning that thousand-watt grin on Eddie all the time. _Hey, Eddie, hey, Eddie, hey, Eddie._ It’s like he’s been imprinted on by a baby duck. Every time Buck does anything even remotely in the vicinity of badass or heroic, he looks over to see that Eddie’s watching. Eddie can hear the _ta-da_ and the _didja see me_ in Buck’s entire being, vibrating off him. God, the guy couldn’t be more obvious if he took out a music-blasting neon billboard on the corner of Hollywood and Highland.

Eddie’s strong, thank God. He became a single dad in his twenties, and he knows he’s easy on the eyes. He’s used to telling people (usually women but now that he’s in LA, men as well), _sorry, not interested._ And this being LA, a lot of those people are rather attractive. But he’s got a son that he won’t let anyone near if they haven’t proved their worth, and he’s not into casual dating, and anything that _claims_ it’s simple always turns out to be complicated in the end.

He can resist the likes of Buck, especially in the interest of not fucking up a good friendship. Because he likes Buck, he really does. He likes playing pool with Buck and shooting the breeze with him and grabbing dinner with him on the way home from a shift. What’s he gonna do, show Buck the busted up, jagged sides of him, the sides that Shannon didn’t want, the sides that’ll make Buck run away from him? Yeah, right. He’s got this under control.

And then.

And then Buck arranges for Christopher to spend the day at the station. He plays with Christopher, makes him laugh, looks after him with a combination of giddy smiles and eager softness, like there’s nothing in the world Buck likes better than listening to an eight-year-old lecture him about dinosaurs.

He gives him Carla.

Buck gives him a way to take care of his _son_. A way that is not pandering or judgmental. For the first time, someone sees he needs help with Christopher and doesn’t think Eddie’s weak or failing because of it. Nobody’s ever—nobody— _fuck._

Eddie wants to fuck him so badly he can taste it on the tip of his tongue.

He texts Buck that night, before he can lose his nerve or remember all the reasons why this is a bad idea. _You free?_

_Yeah, what’s up?_

_Open your front door._

“Eddie?” Buck opens the door to let him in and Eddie shoves the papers and box of condoms at him. “What?”

“They’re my test results.” He steps inside and closes the door behind him. “Showing I’m clean.”

“You’re…” He can see the moment the light bulb flickers on, because Buck nearly drops the box and paper and has to set them down on the kitchen table. Eddie’s not going to look down to make sure since he has _some_ dignity left, but he’d bet money that Buck’s hard. “You. We’re gonna.”

“Yes.”

Buck’s gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles are white. “Really?”

Eddie walks up to him, gets close enough that Buck nearly goes cross-eyed trying to look at him, and very deliberately, very slowly, slides his hand down Buck’s chest to the waistband of his sweatpants.

Buck swallows hard. “God you’re so hot. I’ve been—you have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this.”

“I think I’ve got an idea. You’re not subtle.”

“Well, it got me what I wanted, didn’t it?”

Eddie can never tell him that it was his kindness, his care for his son, his consideration for Eddie—his lack of judgment, his _support_ —that got them here. That’s revealing way too much about his own scarred heart. “You’re going to get tested.”

Buck’s blushing furiously. “What do you take me for?”

“An idiot who nearly swallowed a stranger’s come,” Eddie replies evenly. He taps the paper still sitting on the table. “Get tested, or this isn’t happening again.”

“Again?” Buck perks _right_ up at that, Jesus, the guy’s like a Labrador.

Eddie levels a glare at him. Always worked on guys in his unit. “Will you?”

Buck’s face goes red again and he shoves his hands into his front pockets, his shoulders hunching. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get—sorry.” He peeks up through his lashes, the picture of adorable innocence. “I did, back when—for Abby, and I haven’t been with anyone since she left so—”

All that Eddie knows about Abby is that they were trying long-distance and broke up just before Eddie arrived at the 118, but he can’t help but hear the raw edge in Buck’s voice when he mentions her.

He files that observation away for later. “Well, you’re fucking someone now, so I’ll expect your own copy of these, got it?”

Buck nods vigorously.

“Good boy.” It slips out of him and he has no idea where it came from—he sure as hell wasn’t like this with Shannon, didn’t want to be that asshole macho husband who ordered his wife around during sex—but it feels _right_ , to do this with Buck, to praise him, the guy clearly needs it, and he knows he’s done something well when Buck fucking _trembles_ in response.

He can see Buck’s chest rising up and down in huge, deep breaths. “Are we… can we…”

“Maybe I want to wait until we get your test results back.” He’s just playing, but the wide-eyed look Buck gives him in response is hilarious. Eddie lets the moment draw out, waits until he can see Buck about to ask again, and then orders, “Get on the bed.”

Buck looks confused for a second, so Eddie helps him along by taking off his shirt. He’s undoing his pants when Buck figures it out and nearly trips over his own feet rushing up the stairs to his loft, where his bed is. “I’m going, I’m going.”

Eddie grabs the condoms and follows. “Mmm, good, thought I’d have to spank you.”

He’s fumbling blindly in the dark here, going off what he knows about Buck, both as his friend and as the guy who’s had a couple ill-advised hookups with him, but blind or not he seems to be hitting the bull’s eye every time because Buck makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and sits down heavily on the bed, face pink.

Eddie toys with his snap and zipper on his jeans, not undoing them just yet, just suggesting it. Buck’s eyes are as big as dinner plates, his gaze glued to Eddie’s hands. Fuck. He hasn’t even touched or been touched yet and his cock’s pressing up against the confines of his jeans. It’s been about a decade since he had regular sex—first the tour and then Shannon leaving—and he tells himself that’s the only reason why just _looking_ at Buck like this has him aching all over.

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmurs. Buck’s so eager, so desperate, in need of attention. Any idiot could have their way with him if they so much as gave him the time of day and that makes something hot and bitter curl up in his throat.

Buck’s a good person. A selfless person. A person who managed to help Eddie, saw a need, and did it while maintaining Eddie’s dignity. And if he wants to be fucked, well—Eddie’s gonna do it right. Not some goddamn stranger who won’t care what a soft heart Buck has underneath all that gorgeous muscle.

He can take Buck apart the way Buck deserves, because he’ll also put Buck back together.

Buck’s throat works as he swallows. “Fuck me?” he asks brightly, hopefully. “Please?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Eddie asks. “Strip.”

Buck’s fingers visibly shake as he moves to obey, his gaze continually dropping back down to the dark trail of soft hair that leads down from Eddie’s belly button, to Eddie’s fingers, to the tent that’s definitely forming in Eddie’s jeans.

God, he’s gorgeous. Broad everywhere, miles of skin, a light dusting of chest hair, legs for days. Eddie wants to put his mouth on every square inch of him.

But, as the car and the showers proved, Buck’s got a bit of a hair trigger. Months without sex will do that to you. There is no way he can do everything to Buck that he wants to do if he doesn’t help him take the edge off first.

He crawls on top of Buck on the bed but doesn’t quite lower himself—just looms over him as he drags his fingers over Buck’s cock.

Buck jerks, making a rather eloquent _guh_ sound.

“So easy to tease…” He continues to touch Buck lightly, not giving him any pressure, as Buck’s gaze darts all over like he doesn’t know where to focus. “Sure you can handle what you’re asking for?”

He slides his hand further down, rolls Buck’s balls in his hand, tugs on them very lightly. Buck’s mouth drops open, his chest flushing. “You said—you said you’d—”

“I said I’d what?” Christ, he’s so hard his jeans are becoming a real problem. He drags a finger up the underside of Buck’s cock and Buck whimpers, his cock jerking, spurting precome.

Buck whimpers. Eddie takes his hand away to lick his palm, taking his time, maintaining full eye-contact with Buck. “Well? You said I’d what?”

He smears the precome down Buck’s cock, stroking him in earnest. Buck’s panting like he just finished a hundred-yard dash.

“You—you said you’d destroy me.”

“No.” Eddie tightens his grip, stroking up and down, twisting his wrist. “I said you want someone to destroy you. Never said I’d be the one to do it.”

“For Christ’s sake…” Buck’s hips hitch up into his hand. “Eddie…”

“What I _said_ ,” Eddie continues, his pace relentless, “is that I’d lay you out in bed and take you _apart_. Is that what you want?”

Buck starts nodding before Eddie even fucking finishes his sentence. “Yes, yes, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He swipes his thumb over the head of Buck’s cock, teases his slit, keeps stroking him until Buck’s fingers dig into the sheets and he spills over Eddie’s hand, his gaze still locked on where Eddie’s cock is straining against the denim.

“Tissues?” Eddie asks, and it takes Buck a second to process, but then he’s yanking out the bedside drawer and handing some Kleenex over, pulling out a bottle of lube as well.

Eddie cleans them up, then finally (fucking _finally_ ) undoes his pants, shoving them down. Jesus Christ his balls ache. He wants to shove himself inside of Buck and fuck him rough and fast, then spill all over his goddamn stomach, mark him up.

The thought appalls him with its intensity. He can’t remember the last time someone turned him on so badly.

Doesn’t matter. That’s not what he came here to do. He came here to wreck this man and by God he’s gonna stick to his plan.

Buck scoots back further onto the bed, his legs already spreading. He looks absolutely starving as his gaze darts from Eddie’s cock to his face and back again. “You gonna fuck me now?”

Eddie clucks his tongue. “Not with this, I’m not.” He gives his cock a firm squeeze, a warning to himself.

Buck looks crestfallen, a dog denied walkies. It’s precious. “But…”

Eddie uncaps the lube and slicks up his fingers. “We have to learn to walk before we can run, boy.”

Buck whines, but not like he’s complaining—more like Eddie just said something too hot for him to handle. And doesn’t _that_ give Eddie a rush.

“Prop yourself up,” he says, nodding towards the pillows. “You ever done this?”

Buck shakes his head.

“Not even with yourself?” Jesus Christ, even _Eddie’s_ done that. He was too ashamed to ever tell Shannon about… well. Not just how he sometimes looked at men, but the desire to… touch himself that way. The desire to have her inside of him, instead of the other way around.

He was already a failure to her in every other way. Sex was the one place where he was still good, the one place their marriage hadn’t been failing. He hadn’t wanted to ruin that, too.

But once Shannon left? Oh yeah. He touched himself. Figured out what he wanted. Learned that generally, he liked to be the one penetrating, and that he _definitely_ liked to be in charge no matter what the position, but every once in a while, with a nice toy? Yeah. He had a lot of fun on his own.

Buck doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s shy about sexual exploration, so it’s pretty surprising to know he’d never tried this.

Well. Buck’s loss is now Eddie’s gain.

Buck shakes his head, looking embarrassed. “No.”

Eddie has no idea what the smile that steals over his face looks like, but it makes Buck groan. “Good. Spread your legs.”

Buck relaxes back onto the pillows and does as he’s told. Eddie strokes up his thighs, massaging, working slowly in towards Buck’s entrance. “Tell me if there’s anything that hurts, anything you need me to do differently, okay?”

Buck nods, his chest stuttering as Eddie circles his rim, going slow, trying to remember what it felt like his own first time, the nerves that started up in his legs, his spine. He keeps it slow, pressing, circling, until Buck’s starting to press into it. Then, and only then, does he start to work a finger inside.

“Oh fuck.” Buck’s eyelids flutter. “That’s—oh, wow, okay.”

“Breathe into it,” Eddie advises. He keeps his thrusts shallow, doesn’t try to get his whole finger inside. “There you go. Very good. Good boy.”

Buck colors at the praise, and Eddie has to bite back a grin. Yeah, somebody’s got a praise kink. Visible from fucking space.

He gets his finger in all the way up to the knuckle, working it gently, twisting, waiting until Buck’s nice and relaxed around him to curl it and try to find that one… spot…

“Motherfuck!” Buck’s hips snap and he nearly kicks Eddie in the ribs.

Eddie’s grin stretches his face so wide it hurts. “Yeah, there we go.”

He sticks with just the one finger, teasing Buck, stroking his prostate with it until Buck’s cock is hard again, curving up against his stomach. Buck’s face is slack in shock and pleasure, his fingers locked in a death grip in Eddie’s hair, his hips shoving down onto Eddie’s finger like he’s being paid for it.

“Should’ve known you’d be all over this,” Eddie murmurs. Buck’s so greedy and open, so eager, fuck, no shame or finesse or calculation to it. It’s like when he was a teenager, when sex was a joyful discovery, and it makes something long-forgotten warm up his chest.

He adds a second finger and Buck _moans_ , long and loud, and Jesus Christ that’s possibly the hottest thing Eddie’s ever heard. It’s like he’s _greedy_ for it. “Yes, yes, Eddie, yes…”

“Shh, shh, I gotcha.” He fumbles, finds the condom box, and pulls one out. Rips it open with his teeth—which makes Buck choke on air—and slides it over Buck’s cock. “Breathe, deep breaths, very good. You’re doing so well. You look so good like this, so pretty.”

Buck goes pink absolutely everywhere at the compliment, and Eddie takes the opportunity to press his fingers right up against his prostate and keep them there as he swallows Buck down.

The stream of swears that leaves Buck’s mouth is rather impressive. Eddie doesn’t let up, takes him down deep as he can, over and over, rubbing up against Buck’s prostate, until Buck tugs on his hair hard enough for it to hurt and spills into the condom.

“Oh my God.” Buck’s voice is rough and when Eddie looks up, he’s staring dazedly into space. “Oh my God.”

“That was hot as fuck,” Eddie says, honestly. He wouldn’t normally share that thought, but Buck likes being complimented, apparently, and Eddie’s rapidly realizing he’s a sucker for making Buck blush.

He pulls off the condom and tosses it in the nearby wastebasket, but he doesn’t remove his fingers. Instead, he adds a third.

“What… _oh_ my God.” Buck’s eyes just about roll back into his head. “Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie, _Eddie_.”

The way Buck says his name is fucking addicting. Frankly Eddie’s not sure that was even all that good of a blow job, he hasn’t done one of those since sophomore year, before he got with Shannon, but hey, so long as Buck liked it, he’s not gonna argue.

“You think you’re wrecked now?” He scissors his fingers, starts to get Buck stretched for his cock. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Normally he hates how his Texan roots come back out when he’s really turned on, a drawl starting to invade, but Buck makes a noise like someone’s raked nails down his spine. “You—what—oh fuck, oh _fuck_.”

“Yeah, be nice and loud for me.” He wants Buck screaming for him. “God, you should see yourself.”

He keeps it up, fingering him slow but steady, as Buck clings to whatever part of Eddie he can reach. “Oh, Jesus, you’re—it’s—‘s good, ‘s so good…”

Eddie’s so fucking hard he has to reach down and squeeze his cock again, a stern reminder. He’s going to fuck this man, but he wants him desperate. “I know. You’re doing so well.”

“Want—I’m gonna—” Buck clumsily reaches down, and Eddie realizes he’s hard again.

He bats Buck’s hand away and slides his fingers out, squeezing Buck’s cock, staving off his orgasm. Buck’s head falls back against the pillows. “Oh, Christ.”

Eddie pushes his hand through Buck’s hair, strokes his thumb against his cheek. He’s so fucking pretty like this, strung out and shaking with pleasure. _Eddie_ did that, and it makes a kind of fierce pride spike in his chest.

“Please.” Buck sounds like he’s trying to remember what words are. “I want…” His voice trails off.

“What do you want?” He’s got a pretty good guess, but he wants to hear Buck ask it.

“I want…” Buck’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip, making his mouth shiny and red. Mmm. Very pretty. “I want that—you—inside—inside me.”

“I really don’t know.” Eddie keeps his voice casual, which is hard given that his lungs feel like they’re on fire. “I don’t think you’ve begged me enough yet. Are you sure you want this?”

As if he could actually deny Buck when he looks like this, but Buck jolts like Eddie’s considered slapping him. “I do, I’m sure, please, please please please, Eddie, please fuck me, please.”

Mother of God, he sounds like sex itself when he’s begging like that. “Okay, okay, I’ve got you. Fuck, you’re perfect like this.” How the hell did this Abby woman break up with him? It wasn’t for the sex, that was for sure. “I’ve got you.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Buck moans as Eddie spreads his legs, and frankly? Eddie agrees. He rolls on a condom and slicks himself up, a batch of nerves hitting him. He’d rather err on the side of caution here when it comes to lube.

He tries to slide in slow, he really does, but it’s just so fucking _easy_ to slip in all the way, especially with Buck drawing him in like he’s starving for it. He’s not even sure what swear word slips out of him in that moment but he’s sure they’re colorful. Holy _shit._

Now that he’s having sex he really isn’t sure how he went so long without it. Buck’s hot and tight and slick, and Eddie’s really looking forward to those test results coming back because he wants to do this again without a condom on, and he has to take several deep breaths to steady himself.

Buck’s rocking himself back down onto Eddie’s cock, already desperate.

“Greedy,” Eddie notes, and Buck whines as if in agreement. He strokes Buck’s sides, soothing him. “There you go, breathe, good boy.”

He moves his hands down, his fingers digging into Buck’s thighs, and he thrusts. Hard.

The pace he sets is relentless, and he knows it, and Buck’s already come twice so it has to be a lot—but Buck’s taking it, taking it and begging for more, his whole chest flushed and shining slightly with sweat.

Eddie reaches down, grabs Buck’s cock, strokes it in time with his thrusts. Buck _wails_.

 _Jesus._ Yeah, that’s it. Those are the noises he wants to hear. Buck losing his fucking voice because Eddie’s making him scream. He keeps it up, relentless, right at Buck’s prostate, as Buck’s vocabulary slides down into nothing but _please_ and _Eddie_.

It’s fucking addicting.

Just when he can feel Buck tightening, his body a bow string about to snap, Eddie lets go, stops stroking him.

Buck _sobs_. “No, no, c’mon— _please,_ Eddie, please—”

“Not. Yet.” He wants Buck so out of his fucking mind that he can’t even _speak_. He’s discovering a greedy, selfish side of himself, a side that wants Buck so incoherent with lust and pleasure that all he can do is moan and take what Eddie gives him.

Buck’s fingers dig into his shoulders, and Eddie grabs his wrists, pins them down into the bed. Buck’s hips twist wildly, his face a mess of sweat. “ _Eddie_. I need—”

“I know what you need. And you’re gonna get it. But when _I_ decide.” He leans in, nips at Buck’s earlobe, as a shiver of doubt works its way in. “You trust me on that? Or do you want to stop?”

Buck stares up at the ceiling, eyes glazed, obviously not seeing what’s in front of him. It takes him a moment to figure out what Eddie’s saying, and Eddie’s just about to repeat himself, when Buck manages to shake his head. “I want—fuck. Yes. I trust you. Just— _please_. I want it so bad.”

“You’ll get it.” Eddie gives a slow, dirty thrust, one that grinds their hips together, one that has his stomach brushing cruelly up against Buck’s cock. Buck _writhes._ “When I want you to. Not a second earlier.”

Buck’s entire body heaves with each breath, but he nods.

Eddie slows down his pace a little, keeps his thrusts deep and harsh but not as fast, and avoids Buck’s prostate. Buck twists his face into the pillows and makes a tiny, broken little noise, one that Eddie harbors greedily. He builds it up slowly, gradually speeding up, until the bed’s shaking and Eddie’s starting to hope Buck’s neighbors aren’t home.

Buck can’t even yell or curse anymore, he’s just giving broken moans and whimpers, his fingers curled where Eddie still has his wrists pinned. Just as Buck’s moans start to rise in pitch, his cock leaking steadily, Eddie pulls back out until only the head of his cock is inside.

The _noise_ that Buck makes at that has Eddie lightheaded. He’s trying to shove himself back down onto Eddie’s cock, his face slack like he’s not even fully aware of what he’s doing anymore.

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s never been so fucking turned on in his life.

Part of him wants to tease Buck more, but he’s about two seconds away from coming himself, and he doesn’t want to be cruel. He slides back in and shifts his grip so he has both of Buck’s wrists in his one hand and uses the other to stroke Buck’s cock, fucking him as rough and fast as he wants.

Buck doesn’t even make noise as he comes, his body seizing up, and he goes so tight around Eddie’s cock that Eddie couldn’t hold off his own orgasm if he’d tried.

He goes boneless as he comes and collapses on top of Buck, the both of them breathing heavily. He doesn’t want to move for a fucking week.

At last, though, he does prop himself up and tie off the condom, throwing it away and grabbing the tissues to clean them up. “Live up to your expectations?”

Buck makes a small noise and nods, still inhaling air in gulps. Eddie pets his hair and Buck pushes up into it eagerly.

Well. Eddie would be an asshole if he just left him like this. He turns Buck into him and lets Buck tuck his face into Eddie’s neck.

It feels nice, to pet Buck’s hair, to listen to Buck’s breathing even out. It’s not as awkward as Eddie had feared it would be. They should probably shower, though, and Buck needs some water…

He starts to pull away, but Buck makes a small needy sound and presses his mouth to Eddie’s collarbone, his shoulder, his throat, over and over, tiny soft kisses like he’s hungry for it.

“Hey, hey.” Eddie stops pulling away and wraps his arm around Buck again, stroking his back. “Okay, I won’t leave, okay.”

Buck curls into him like Eddie’s an anchor in a storm and _clings_ , and well, how’s Eddie supposed to resist that? It’s like a giant dog’s on top of him. He pets Buck’s hair and makes soothing noises, the two of them pressed together just about everywhere it’s possible for them to touch.

His mouth is dry as a desert, though, and they do need water. He pulls away, and Buck blinks up at him, mouth turned down into an unhappy mew. “I know, I’ll be right back.”

It should probably feel weirder than it does, wandering naked through Buck’s apartment to grab stuff. Buck’s got Gatorade, so he grabs one of those, and an energy bar, and two bottles of water.

When he get back, Buck clings to him all over again, and Eddie has to coax him to eat. Jesus Christ, he’d said he was going to take Buck apart, and clearly this is the consequence of that.

Buck rests his face on Eddie’s shoulder as he munches on the energy bar, and… this isn’t really a _bad_ consequence. He makes adorable noises when Eddie pets his hair.

He’s definitely got to do some fucking internet research when he gets home.

It takes about half an hour for Buck to remember human speech. “I’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

Eddie looks down at him. Buck’s all rumpled and soft, and—for fuck’s sake—he’s absently nuzzling Eddie’s neck. The guy’s fucking adorable. “Don’t be a drama queen, you’ll walk fine.”

“Nope. Gonna call in sick.” Buck sounds far too pleased about that.

He tilts his face up, and he couldn’t be more obviously asking for a kiss if he said it out loud.

Eddie gathers up the empty water, Gatorade, and energy bar wrapper, and puts them in the trash. “We need a shower, c’mon.”

He helps Buck to his feet and guides him in, gets the water warm, gently pushes him under the spray.

“I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Eddie grabs the soap. “You were also kinda out of it for a while.”

Buck ducks his head down and looks, of all things, ashamed. “Sor—”

“Hey, don’t apologize, man, I kind of took you for a ride there.” He realizes he’s holding Buck’s face in his hands, fingertips stroking the warm, soft skin, and he forces himself to pull back. “I’m sorry for… if I took it too far.”

“No, no, that was…” Buck shakes his head and an almost shy smile steals across his face. “Yeah. That was.” He rubs the back of his neck.

Buck’s _bashful_. It’s cute as fuck. “Are we gonna do that again?”

“Maybe not… _quite_ that.” That was exhausting, and he’s not always going to have quite so much time to spare. “But. This. Yeah. We. We can.”

He wants to. Buck’s a friend, a good person, he’s _safe_. And the sex is… really, really good. Better than good. Amazing.

Buck grins and wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie knows what’s coming—he turns his face, nuzzles into Buck’s neck, lightly, playfully bites at his ear.

Buck’s kiss skitters across the side of his face, instead of his mouth.

“Sweet,” Buck says, his voice low and warm in Eddie’s ear, apparently unaffected by Eddie’s dodge.

They clean up, and tidy up, and he begs off a beer so he can get home to Christopher. It’s easy, it’s casual, they’re just friends who happen to fuck (intensely, insanely, and then cuddle afterwards, but whatever). It’s all good.

It’s _simple._

Yeah, he can totally do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *banging pots and pans together* AFTERCARE IS IMPORTANT! DON'T SKIP AFTERCARE!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are consequences and a whole lot of stupidity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your friendly neighborhood authors here to note that there is a reason why the current prevailing rule of thumb for any kink practice is RACK (Risk-Aware Consensual Kink) and that while the last chapter was both consensual and kinky, it was not even remotely risk-aware because these two stumbled into it without knowing anything about what they were doing and that...has consequences. Play responsibly, all. 
> 
> [Also, hi, I'm thrilled to be part of this collaboration and hope you enjoy this minor detour into Feels and Idiocy]

Buck wakes up feeling like he got hit by a train. Or rather, like he spent the night doing tequila shots until he blacked out and fell asleep in a dumpster. His entire body aches, muscles tight and uncooperative, his throat feels like he swallowed sandpaper, the way his head throbs makes him want to take an ice pick to it—

_Jesus Christ, what the fuck?_

When his alarm goes off, he flinches and swats blindly at the snooze button, burying himself deeper under the covers. Maybe half an hour later, keys jingle in the lock and the door opens—Maddie coming back from her overnight shift. 

Fuck, he has to get up and get ready for his own shift. 

“Buck?” She calls. “You still here?”

Buck forces himself to sit up, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“Yeah,” he calls back, and hell, his voice sounds _wrecked_. “Slow start this morning. I’ll be out of your hair in a few.”

“I’ll make some coffee. Sounds like you could use it.”

_Get dressed_ , he orders himself. _Get dressed, brush your teeth, take some aspirin, go to work. Don’t be a baby._

And very reluctantly, with far more effort than those tasks would usually require, Buck does.

“Shit, Buck, what happened to you?” Chim asks when Buck finally pulls into the station. 

Buck freezes—he looks fine, doesn’t he? Yeah, it’s been a rough morning and he still _feels_ like hell, but in his bathroom mirror he looked presentable at least. What’s—

Chim grabs Buck’s hand and stares pointedly at the marks on his wrist, which, Buck realizes, are matched on the other side.

“Did you get in a fight with an escape artist? Police officer? Dominatrix? All of the above?”

_“I need—”_

_“I know what you need. And you’re gonna get it. But when I decide.”_

Buck fights the urge to shiver at the memory as it hits him, even as he also fights the desire to snatch his hand away. He hadn’t noticed the marks before, but now that he has—

They’re his. And Eddie’s. And there’s a weird pit forming in his stomach at the idea of anyone else seeing them, anyone else touching them.

Buck forces a laugh and pulls away slowly, rolling his shoulders to work out some of the stiffness that’s returned over the past few minutes.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he says as he starts toward the locker room.

“Since when?” Chim calls after him and Buck teasingly flips him off over his shoulder. 

When Buck changes into his uniform, he tugs the sleeves down as far as they’ll go to cover his wrists. After a minute, he puts his gloves on for good measure. 

What? Proper protective gear is important.

The shift is...rough. To say the least. Maybe the roughest Buck’s had since he was still a probationary member. His headache comes back a few hours in, a dull ache behind his eyes, and everything feels more difficult than it should—he’s exhausted, unfocused. And every time he looks at Eddie…

The sex was good. The sex was better than _good_ really, it was earth-shattering, spine-melting—Buck’s not entirely convinced he didn’t meet God before coming back down. But in the harsh light of day, far removed from the high of the moment, all he can think about is what a mess he was. A begging, needy, desperate, clingy wreck. For a man who won’t even kiss him—oh, yes, his mind has very unhelpfully pointed that out throughout the day—and it doesn’t feel sexy anymore. It doesn’t feel good. It feels...shameful. 

By the end, Buck’s twisted himself up into so many knots that all he really wants to do is go home, shower, and pass out in his own bed until the uncomfortable mishmash of emotions swirling around his head fades into something more easily dealt with. He dithers in the locker room as he changes back into his street clothes, waiting for all of his friends to filter out so he can’t get stuck in any awkward conversations. It’s effective.

Or, at least, that’s what Buck thinks until he gets outside to find Eddie leaning against the side of his truck.

Buck swallows hard as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks his jeep. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie replies quietly, pushing off his truck to cross the distance between them. He nods at Buck’s wrists. “Can I see?”

“You heard about that, huh?” Buck says, pushing down the flutter in his stomach as he lets Eddie take his hands.

“In this place? Of course.” Buck bites back a sound as Eddie’s thumb passes gently over one of the marks, but apparently he doesn’t manage well enough because Eddie’s eyes snap to his. “That hurt?”

_Yes. No. I like it._

“It’s fine.”

Eddie shakes his head, but he doesn’t drop Buck’s wrists, still absentmindedly stroking at the impressions of his own fingers. “I fucked up.”

“Because of this? Eddie, no—”

“Not...because of this.” Eddie does step back then, running a hand through his hair. “Look, things got a little...intense the other night.”

Buck flushes at the new wave of shame that floods him at the reminder. “I told you I liked it.”

Or, well, maybe he hadn’t said those words in the shower exactly, but it was implied.

“So did I,” Eddie acknowledges. “A lot. But...I also didn’t know what I was doing and when I got home and looked some things up, I realized I could have really hurt you. And that’s not—that’s the last thing I wanted to happen.”

_Oh._ Buck’s throat gets tight for reasons he can’t explain.

“You didn’t—I’m fine,” he protests weakly.

Eddie fixes him with a look that makes him squirm. “You telling me you haven’t felt like hell for the last twenty-four hours?”

Buck looks away.

“That’s what I thought.” Eddie reaches out and squeezes Buck’s shoulder lightly to get his attention again. “Hey...I was going to go home and grab a nap and run some errands before I have to pick Christopher up from school, and then I was going to take him for ice cream. Do you...want to come with?”

“For the nap and the errands, or for the ice cream?” Buck asks, managing a smile as his heart skips. 

Eddie shrugs. “I was thinking for the ice cream, but if you wanted...well…”

His tongue wets his lips as he pointedly rakes his gaze down Buck’s body. “...I’m sure I could think of something else too.” 

...well, who is Buck to say no to that? So, he goes. And he learns that Eddie’s shower is really not big enough for two grown men, but that doesn’t matter when Eddie plasters himself against Buck’s back and wraps a hand around Buck’s cock, stroking him off slowly and expertly while murmuring a steady stream of praise into his ear.

_So good for me, so fucking gorgeous—do you have any idea how good you sound? Let me hear you—that’s right, I’ve got you—let go for me—_

When Buck finally makes it home later that afternoon, after ice cream with Christopher and Eddie and enough soft, casual touches to ease the itch under his skin, his head doesn’t hurt and his body is loose and he can breathe again.

They keep having sex. Not all the time, and not anywhere near as intense as the first time, but enough that Buck gets at least some of the spring back in his step that he lost after Abby left. It’s nice—nice to flirt and be flirted with, nice to be wanted, as a friend in addition to everything else. And sure, maybe it’s not everything. Maybe, in an ideal world, Buck would have someone who is his friend and his partner, and sex would mean something, but—

It’s nice. For what it is. 

“Okay, there has to be a way to make this fit.”

“Well, you’re the expert in making things fit.”

Eddie presses his lips together, clearly holding back a laugh as he looks at Buck over the couch they’re attempting to move into Maddie’s new apartment.

“Really?” He asks. “So many possibilities and that’s what you’re going with? Subtlety is dead, huh?”

Buck grins. “Hey, I’m just trying to get laid later.”

Eddie does laugh then and nods toward the door. “We still gotta get this done first—maybe if we took the door off its hinges?”

“Could always break out the jaws of life,” Buck jokes. He straightens out his face when Maddie walks out, because bad secret flirting with the coworker you’re having casual sex with only works if your sister isn’t there to read the truth all over you, but the second she leaves again, Eddie flashes him a smile full of promise. 

“Speaking of _later_...I have three more hours before I’m supposed to get Chris from my abuela’s so…”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Lift and pivot.”

“Lift with your legs,” Chim calls from inside, and Buck nearly drops the couch when he starts laughing. 

“You know, if you drop this couch on me, I won’t be any good to either of us later,” Eddie says quietly. Buck bites his lip while readjusting his hold.

“Well, in that case…”

After they set the couch down inside, Buck casually watches Eddie leave the room, trying to figure out how long is an appropriate amount of time to hang out eating pizza and drinking beer when Eddie’s ass looks as good as it does in those pants, only to get caught off guard when Maddie says—

“He is so cute.”

_Yeah, he is._

“Yeah, he gets that a lot,” Buck says before his brain can catch up with his mouth. “You should see his kid though.”

“Wait, Chimney has a kid?”

Buck nearly chokes on air, flushing and trying to backtrack immediately.

“Uh, no, I thought you meant—” Nope. There’s no saving that one. Thankfully, Maddie just gives him a bit of an odd look before turning and following the other two men into the kitchen. 

_Good one, Buck. Subtle._

As weird as it is to know Maddie might be into one of his coworkers, Buck tries not to think about the fact that he’s glad she wasn’t talking about Eddie. Or why he’s glad.

He and Eddie are friends. Friends who have sex. That’s it.

Simple. Easy. Nothing to it.

Right?

* * *

Eddie can’t stand Taylor Kelly. 

Is it possible that she’s a perfectly nice woman with no ulterior motives who genuinely just wants to do a heartwarming feature on the 118 in thanks for saving her life? Sure, it’s possible. But Eddie’s pretty sure that’s extremely unlikely. He knows the type—all selfish ambition and means to an end—so frankly, he’s on Bobby’s side as far as being wary of camera crews hanging out in the station and following them on calls.

It doesn’t help that she stares at Buck like he’s a piece of meat. And Buck, being Buck, is like a golden retriever with a new friend—helpful and supportive and nice—which just makes her stare more. Which is fine because Buck can flirt with whoever he wants, he can sleep with whoever he wants, because he’s a grown man and he and Eddie are just friends, but Buck is—

He’s a good person. Is all. And he deserves better than someone who clearly only looks at him and sees the stereotypical hot firefighter package instead of the sensitive heart underneath.

The point is, Eddie just really doesn’t like Taylor Kelly. Which works out, because he’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

“What do you think the odds are on Buck asking out that reporter when all this is over?” 

Eddie is hanging up his uniform in his locker when Chim and Hen come walking in. He doesn’t say a word.

“Weren’t you just saying last week you thought he was seeing someone?” Hen replies. She clicks her tongue and walks over to her own locker.

“Well, yeah, but—Eddie, you’re close with Buck—is he seeing someone?” 

Eddie nearly chokes on his tongue. _Well, when he isn’t here, he spends most of his time with me and at least some of that time is spent naked so…_

“Uh...I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything.”

“I still want to know who Wrist Marks was,” Chim remarks, sitting down on the bench. “That was definitely a sex injury and you know old Buck would have been all about telling us about it. It must have taken some serious strength to mark him up like that—now that’s a woman I’d like to meet.”

_Definitely wasn’t a woman_ , Eddie thinks, fussing aimlessly with the contents of his locker so the door can continue shielding his face from the other two.

“If it was a sex injury, maybe it was the first person he was with since Abby,” Hen points out. “He might not have wanted to talk about it. Besides, that was like a month ago now.” 

“I’m just worried about him is all,” Chim replies. “As long as he’s safe and happy, you know, whatever, but Abby broke his heart pretty good so—”

“I think he’s fine.” It slips out before Eddie can stop it, and when he feels Chim and Hen look at him he clears his throat before finally stepping back and closing the locker. “I mean...he seems to be dealing with it pretty well. So.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” Chim says. Hen doesn’t stop staring at Eddie though, and it takes everything in him not to flush before she looks away. 

Part of him wants to ask about Abby. Because while he knows that she’s Buck’s ex, he doesn’t _know_ about her. He doesn’t know exactly what happened or how things ended. _Abby broke his heart pretty good_ , implies a whole hell of a lot more than something casual, and Eddie is wildly curious.

But.

It’s not his place to ask. It’s certainly not his place to ask Chim and Hen about it. If Buck wants him to know, Buck will tell him. Hell, if Buck were to find out about everything that happened with Shannon from anyone else before Eddie was ready to talk about it, he knows he would be upset about that. 

So. He doesn’t ask.

“Have a good night, you two,” Eddie says instead, grabbing the rest of his stuff and turning to go. 

He’s still thinking about it when he gets to his truck though.

And Carla is on for another two hours…

_You free tonight? Meant to ask before you left but…_

_Sure. Come over._

“I had an idea,” Eddie says when Buck opens the door.

“So something terrible that I definitely won’t enjoy at all then,” Buck fires back with a grin as he steps aside to let Eddie in.

“Well just for that, maybe I won’t—” Eddie makes like he’s going to turn around and Buck grabs his shirt and pulls him in, stopping just inches before kissing him. Buck drags his mouth along Eddie’s jaw instead until he reaches Eddie’s ear.

“What’s the idea?”

And that, right there, makes Eddie want to give Buck everything. The blind trust, the way Eddie hasn’t even said a word and Buck’s already open, willing, melting for him. It’s a terrible responsibility—especially after the way he fumbled the first time, he worries about taking advantage of that, worries that he’s not worth it—but unless he’s going to walk away completely, Eddie’s only other option is to make damn sure he deserves it. So that’s exactly what he plans to do.

“I was thinking that I want you to fuck me.”

Buck makes a noise like he’s been punched in the gut and drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

“That’s the goal.”

Buck’s hands slide down to Eddie’s hips and flex hard, making Eddie’s eyes flutter a bit at the thought of Buck doing the same thing while sliding into him. Buck turns his head and drags his teeth over Eddie’s pulse point.

“You’re serious?”

Eddie hums and tips his head back to give Buck better access. “Extremely. Come on.”

Eddie pushes lightly at Buck’s chest, urging him toward the stairs up to the bed. Eddie loses his shirt on the way and almost gets Buck’s off before Buck trips on the stairs and has to catch himself on the railing.

“My bad,” Eddie says, even as Buck laughs. They make it the rest of the way up the stairs without further incident, and Eddie shucks his pants and falls back onto the bed, lazily stroking himself as Buck grabs the lube from the drawer.

Buck swears again when he notices and drops the bottle on the bed before rolling on top of Eddie, kissing first down Eddie’s neck, then further down his chest.

“You really want this?” Buck asks again before licking a stripe up Eddie’s cock and making Eddie jerk.

Eddie fumbles for the lube bottle and presses it into Buck’s hand. When he first had the idea while leaving the station, then he had been sure. Now? Now stopping seems like the worst idea in the world. He’s keyed up and aching and he _wants_ —

“Yeah,” Eddie pants. “Know you’re gonna be so good for me. Just like you always are. Come on—get me ready for you.”

Buck flushes at the praise and clicks open the cap, slicking his fingers up. He presses a kiss to Eddie’s hip as he circles Eddie’s rim with one finger, as Eddie exhales slowly trying to relax. It’s been a little while since he did this to himself, and he wants it, wants it to be Buck who fucks him first, wants to know what it feels like to take it when it isn’t just fingers or a toy, wants Buck to understand that he trusts him enough for that—

“Fuck,” Eddie hisses when Buck slides a finger inside. Buck pauses and Eddie shakes his head. “You’re good, you can move.”

Buck twists his finger in and out slowly, his eyes fixed on Eddie’s face the whole time, adjusting to his reactions. When he curls his finger just right, Eddie swears even louder, shoving his hips down into it.

“More,” he says, and chokes on air when Buck adds a second finger, scissoring them and stretching him open, and Eddie just—

“Knew you would be good at this, fuck, just like that, so good, so perfect for me—”

Buck nips hard at Eddie’s thigh as he adds a third finger and Eddie gets a hand in Buck’s hair as his other fists in the sheets at his side. He’s going to have a mark, but he doesn’t mind—in fact, he likes the idea of being marked up by Buck’s mouth almost as much as reverse. 

“Are you—” Buck chokes out after a moment more. “Can I—”

Eddie forces his eyes open—when had he closed them?—and swallows hard. “Yeah. Yeah, go on.”

“Like this? Or—?” Buck asks, pulling his hand away, and Eddie can barely think, but he exhales shakily and releases Buck in order to push himself up and roll over on his hands and knees. Buck swears and presses his mouth to Eddie’s spine, and it’s too soft, too soft for what they are, for what Eddie needs, twists something up inside him that he can’t think about, so he pushes it away and shoves his hips back.

“Come on,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder. “Fuck me.” 

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—_ Buck slides in, and it doesn’t matter that it’s slow, it doesn’t even matter that it doesn’t _hurt_ exactly, it’s still new and deep and Eddie bites his tongue nearly hard enough to bleed at the stretch. His hands clench in the sheets, his breath catches, and Buck goes still and scatters kisses across Eddie’s neck and shoulders until he relaxes into it. And then Buck moves, and Eddie is damn glad Buck got his test results back because he wants to feel every second of it. 

It doesn’t last long—Buck has far less of a hair trigger since they started having semi-regular sex, but this is new, and Eddie doesn’t need much more than a handful of solid thrusts brushing up against his prostate and Buck’s hand stroking his cock to spill over the edge—but it leaves him breathless. 

“We’re definitely doing that again,” Eddie says when they’re cleaned up and Buck has flopped down next to him on the mattress. Buck lights up, shy and pleased.

“Yeah? It was good?”

“It was great.”

Eddie glances over at the clock and tries to summon the energy to get up. “I should…”

“Oh. Yeah, no, of course.”

“I’ll see you at work?” Eddie asks, forcing himself up.

Buck sits up on his elbows and watches as Eddie grabs his pants and pulls them back on. “Gotta make sure I’m featured in the rest of our television debuts, so yeah, definitely.”

Eddie pauses in the middle of buttoning his jeans as his mind unpleasantly jumps back to the locker room. _What do you think the odds are on Buck asking out that reporter?_

“Hey, uh, are you—?” Eddie cuts himself off and shakes his head. It’s none of his business and it doesn’t matter anyway. Buck can do what he wants. “Nevermind. Goodnight.”

“Night, Eddie.”

Eddie grabs his shirt off the floor at the bottom of the stairs and pulls it on before he leaves. When he gets to his truck, he doesn’t turn the key immediately. There’s a hollowness in his stomach, that kind of lingering unease that comes when you miss a step and nearly fall, but he can’t understand why.

So he shakes off the feeling and goes home.


	4. Chapter 4

It takes a while, waiting lists being what they are, especially when you’re on a firefighter’s salary and dependent on scholarship programs and financial aid, but at last, a spot opens up in a school and Carla gets him an interview.

Eddie hasn’t felt so much like throwing up in years. When he tells Buck he gets an extremely enthusiastic blowjob as congratulations, but after the sex is finished (sex that he’d been hoping would get rid of his nerves) he spends the next hour pacing up and down in just his underwear explaining all the ways this could go wrong while Buck stares at him with his head cocked like a puppy that isn’t sure _why_ its owner was so worked up but perchance cuddles would help?

So far, though, it’s gone without a hitch. The administrators seem to like him, it looks like the perfect place for Chris, if he’s smart with his finances he can—

“Our last thing to do would be to meet Mrs. Diaz!”

Fuck shit goddamn mothercock and several other words he’s not going to voice out loud. “Ah, actually, we’ve been divorced for about a year, ma’am.”

“Well that’s fine.” The woman is still all smiles. “We’ll just need a copy of the custody agreement…”

Eddie would like an anvil to fall on his head now, thanks. He knows he has it somewhere, probably shoved into the box with the rest of his important documents that he never unpacked because he was waiting for tax season, but he already knows he’s not going to be able to unravel the twist in his gut until he has it in his hands.

“Uh, I can email it? But I do have sole custody—his mom’s… not in his life.”

The look on the administrator’s face is not unsympathetic. “As long as we have something official to verify that, there shouldn’t be any problem. It’s really just for recordkeeping, so we know who can make decisions and when in case of any emergencies—I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. Not a problem at all.”

It’s a problem, all right. It’s a problem that Shannon left with just a note and not a word to her son, it’s a problem she didn’t come back after her mom’s cancer ran its course, it’s a problem she _mailed_ him divorce papers signing away their entire relationship with a stroke of a pen and pretty much giving a toss of her hair to any interest in Christopher’s life—

And it’s one _thousand_ percent a problem when Shannon shows up all smiles like nothing’s happened and nothing’s wrong. 

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” What the hell is he supposed to say to her? He feels like he shouldn’t be angry with her, he knows he fucked up, he’s the one who ruined everything, but—a note? Leaving in the night? Not talking to either of them for years?

“Someone from the school mailed a notice? They were processing Christopher’s paperwork and wanted to verify my contact information—apparently it was a mistake and they don’t actually need it but I, um, wanted to see the school in person.” And if that isn’t a slap in the face after all the times he tried to call her after getting the papers only to get routed through a lawyer—but oh no, he makes a decision about Christopher’s education and now she shows up.

Shannon’s smile is tentative now, like she can feel the distrust that’s coming off him in waves. _You left first, Eddie, you left first._ He takes a few deep breaths.

“Yeah, it’s a great place. I think he would really thrive here.”

“Does he… ask about me?”

“Not much anymore.” Why would he? Chris is an angel, an eternal optimist, but when your mom vanishes for three years… it’s a dig, and possibly an unfair one, and he feels bad when he sees Shannon’s face fall, but… not bad enough. She should know what kind of harvest she sowed.

But Shannon does tear up at that, and so they have—not exactly a heart to heart, but it’s more than Shannon’s said to him in years, more than she’s confessed in years, and maybe she thinks that means their spark is still there because—

Because she kisses him. Right in the parking lot.

Eddie stumbles back. He’s pretty sure he’d feel less numb if he’d been shot. “What—”

Shannon looks startled. “Sorry, I just. I thought. You never wanted the divorce and—well, sex was never our problem—”

His mouth feels smeared with ink, even though Shannon’s not even wearing Chapstick (she was always like that, would wear a full face of makeup but no lipstick or gloss, hated stuff on her lips, he’d thought it was a cute quirk…) and he has to fight the urge to reach up with the back of his hand and wipe it away.

“Why are you here?” he asks. “To sleep with me and run again?”

“I’d like to see Christopher.” Shannon shrugs. “And yes, some… maybe I missed you a little.”

 _I missed you, and then you mailed me divorce papers._ He shoves that thought down. He left first. _He left first._ “I don’t know, Shannon. I need to think about this.”

He needs to wipe the stain off his mouth.

“I’m his mother, Eddie,” she says. “I have a right. Look, I don’t want to make a mess—we’re adults, we can work something out between us.” There’s a casual implication that he doesn’t think she intends but that he can’t help hearing anyway—that if they can’t work it out between themselves, then someone else will do it for them, in a way that’s far messier and more painful. Eddie shoves down the panic.

“Please do think about it. Is all I’m saying,” Shannon finishes. And then she gives him her new number and Eddie gets into his car before he second-guesses himself and they spiral into a fight.

He needs to wipe the stain off his mouth.

Thinking is not at all high on his list of things he’s doing as he pulls up in front of Buck’s place and knocks on the door.

Thank God Maddie doesn’t live here anymore.

“He—”

Buck doesn’t even finish his greeting, a surprised-but-pleased look on his face, before Eddie’s doing the stupidest fucking thing he’s ever done by grabbing Buck’s face in his hands, shoving him back, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

He blindly kicks the door closed, somehow Buck’s back connects with a wall, and Buck’s hands fist on the back of his shirt as he ruthlessly sticks his tongue down Buck’s throat.

…holy shit, Buck’s a good kisser.

It’s something Eddie’s kind of assumed, seeing as Buck had zero problem hooking up with women (according to Chim) constantly, and kissing is kind of an important part of getting someone to want to sleep with you (usually), but it’s another thing entirely to experience it.

“What the fuck,” Buck pants as they part to breathe and Eddie, his blood buzzing, latches his mouth to Buck’s jaw. “Not that I’m complaining here but—what— _ohhh_ fuck…”

Eddie dives in to kiss him again, his hands falling to Buck’s hips, squeezing, guiding Buck’s legs open as his thigh shoves between—he’s not sure he’s ever been so blindingly hard so fast in his life but he can’t stop.

This is why he never kissed Buck, this is why he knew it was a bad idea, kissing is soft and intimate and Buck’s _good_ at it and now he never wants to do anything else for the rest of his fucking life. No pun intended.

Buck ruts against his thigh, a moan shoved into Eddie’s mouth, worked around his invading tongue, and Jesus Christ, Eddie can’t _not_ grind up against him in return. He tugs on Buck’s lower lip, swipes his tongue over it, licks right back inside, and the whimper Buck makes around his tongue is fucking heaven.

They’re like goddamn teenagers who don’t have enough finesse or knowledge to get any further than this, just chasing the high of contact, chasing what feels good, making out like there’s no tomorrow. His mouth feels wiped clean and then stained anew, but he likes this mark, this smear of Buck’s touch, the ink of it bright and shining.

He comes first, staining his jeans, thumping his fist against the wall and biting Buck’s lip. Buck makes a desperate noise and digs his fingers into Eddie’s back, still grinding frantically against Eddie’s thigh.

“Yeah, that’s it, come on.” Praising Buck, encouraging him with words, is second nature by now. He’s pretty sure Buck has no fuckin’ clue how much he lights up when he’s told he’s a good boy, when he’s told how gorgeous and obedient he is, how good he makes Eddie feel. It’s like watching a kid discover Christmas. “Take what you want, so desperate for it, it’s so fucking hot, watching you like this, so good for me, so pretty for me…”

Buck claws at his back and kisses him hard, like he’s dying for it, and comes all over Eddie’s leg. Eddie strokes Buck’s sides through his shirt, and they’re both panting but they can’t stop kissing, no, _he_ can’t stop kissing, and Buck’s making noises like he’ll actually literally die if Eddie’s mouth leaves his—

They try to walk while joined at the mouth and Eddie’s post-orgasm legs kind of buckle and the next thing they’re on the floor in a tangle, still fucking kissing. His hands are all up underneath Buck’s shirt, Buck’s straddling him, and somehow, their frantic kissing turns into something softer.

He gets a hand up into Buck’s hair, pets through it, lets his fingers get tangled. Explores Buck’s mouth over and over. Thinks, _this is nothing like kissing Shannon._

And then wonders why.

* * *

Buck has no idea why Eddie decided to go from being the king of avoiding so much as a peck on the lips to the master of tonsil hockey, but he is _not_ complaining.

He’s also not getting up off this floor for God or money.

Eddie’s hands run all over him like he’s trying to memorize him, tugging on Buck’s hair to get him in just the right position to kiss him senseless. Lets Buck kiss him soft and shallow, lips tugging at each other each time he pulls away for a second. God, when was the last time he kissed someone just to kiss them? Abby, once or twice. And then before her… not since he was, what, fourteen? Once he and his peers knew what sex was, it was always a race to get naked.

This, though. This is nice. He could do this for hours.

Eddie tugs on his hair harder, gets his chin back so he can leave a trail of dirty kisses down Buck’s neck, and Buck shivers all over, hips hitching against Eddie’s automatically. Eddie groans and drags him back down into another proper kiss, deep and slow. This, _this_ is what had been missing from the sex, this was what he’d been craving after every orgasm.

He really hopes Eddie decides this is the start of a new trend and not a one-time deal.

“Mmm, greedy.” Eddie’s voice is always so fond when he says that. Like he _likes_ indulging Buck. His hands move down to Buck’s ass, grinding them together with purpose this time. “Greedy boy.”

“You know it.” Buck arches himself shamelessly against Eddie. He feels like he’s one hundred percent floating. He can’t stop smiling into each kiss like a goddamn moron, but Eddie just seems amused, kissing back every time Buck presses in for another.

He kisses the corner of Eddie’s mouth, gets an amused rumble in response—gets even more daring and kisses Eddie’s cheek, his jaw, his nose. Eddie laughs low and warm and rocks up against Buck, returns the favor, kisses all over Buck’s face until Buck’s hard and squirming. There’s no sense of racing this time, but Buck’s well aware that they’re going to fuck again, and soon. He’s just enjoying this making out, kissing for the sake of it, learning Eddie’s mouth, letting Eddie learn all the ways to make him whimper.

He really can’t remember the last time he felt content like this. Not since Abby left.

Eventually their hands do wander, and he finds himself tugging at Eddie’s belt. Holy shit is he a sucker for sex without a condom, now that their results are back, he likes feeling messy and marked up. It’s a way to feel claimed, now that Eddie’s being careful not to get as rough with him as they did that first time, careful not to leave marks.

(Buck doesn’t know how to tell him that he wants Eddie to leave marks, that he wants to go back to that rough place again, held at the edge and then pushed over it. He just doesn’t want to have the crappy day afterwards, but now that they know he needs pampering, surely they could arrange that, right? But maybe Eddie didn’t like it, maybe Eddie—)

They shove each other’s pants down and Eddie’s tongue shoves into his mouth right as Buck hears the _rip_ of the lube packet.

What? After the third time having sex in a car, they figured, better keep something in their wallets.

“You wanna ride me?” Eddie asks—as if Buck could say no to that.

Eddie’s back is going to _kill_ him tomorrow, and Buck, for one, will be quietly laughing his ass off.

There’s a fair bit of undignified shifting around as Buck finishes kicking off where his jeans have gotten trapped around one ankle, and then Buck’s getting stretched open like there’s no tomorrow. They still do it mostly this way, which is great by his estimation. Not that he dislikes fucking Eddie, far from it, holy _shit_ that was a revelation and he wants to actually get his goddamn stamina back on that front so he can last long enough to really get into it—but there’s something that’s so… so _nice_ about when Eddie’s inside him. It’s like, yeah, maybe they’re just good friends (best friends) who have sex to spare each other the trouble of finding a hookup on a dating app, but in these moments, he’s giving Eddie something that nobody else is, and Eddie’s marking him up, touching him, feeling him in ways nobody else ever has, and, dunno, there’s something just really great about that.

Eddie’s mouth drops open when Buck sinks down onto him, and Buck wants to kiss him so badly—and wait, wait, _now he can_.

He bends down (oh Jesus fucking Christ that makes the angle change, makes Eddie’s cock shift inside him) and Eddie, who seems to be reading his mind, pushes up and they meet a little clumsily in the middle.

He wants to crawl inside Eddie’s mouth and live there.

In this position he’s doing most of the work, and his thighs burn, but he couldn’t give less of a crap. The look of awe on Eddie’s face, the glazed pleasure in his eyes when Buck swivels his hips and gives a dirty grind when he pushes down, taking Eddie’s cock in all the way to the base—it’s intoxicating. Eddie’s hands rhythmically squeeze his thighs, his stomach muscles clenching as he thrusts up into Buck, and hot damn, now _that_ is an image, motherfuck, Buck doesn’t think he’s seen anything hotter in his life.

Oh, wait, no, except for the sheen of sweat on Eddie’s jaw—

He licks at it, feels the scratch of Eddie’s stubble against the flat of his tongue, and Eddie swears under his breath, seizes Buck’s hair, turns his face and kisses him, sloppy, dirty, _perfect_.

Eddie lightly pinches one of his nipples, tweaks it, and Buck moans lowly into his mouth. He was always kind of quiet during sex before, but Eddie fucking loves it when Buck’s loud, so now he just lets loose, and he’s always rewarded. Like now, when he feels the ghost of a smile cross Eddie’s face.

“So sensitive.” Eddie’s not exactly the silent, broody type, but he’s far from chatty, at least, compared to Buck. When they hang out, Buck does ninety percent of the talking. But when they’re having sex, it’s like some switch in Eddie gets flipped and he just can’t stop dirty talking and Buck will fucking die if Eddie ever decides to quit the habit. “I knew it. Look at you shiver.”

Buck is shivering, all over, he gets like that, all of his nerves dancing over his skin like tiny flaming pinpricks. Eddie rolls his nipple between his fingers and Buck shoves himself down harder onto Eddie’s cock, uncontrolled, reacting to the lightning rod that zips to life in his stomach.

Eddie falls back, and Buck feels him planting his feet on the floor—oh shit—and that’s all the warning he gets before Eddie _really_ gets into it, shoving up into him and Buck nearly falls to the fucking floor. His jaw goes slack on an unholy choking noise as his entire body lights up and he works himself back down onto Eddie’s cock like he’s getting paid for it.

There’s nothing left but raw passion, need, that electric thrum building in the space between his shoulders, and he’s scratching long red marks into Eddie’s chest when he comes.

Eddie grabs onto him like Buck might fly away and his hips leave the floor momentarily as he thrusts again. Buck feels like a rag doll, but in a really good, sated kind of way, and then Eddie’s coming and it’s hot and liquid and oh, yes, they’re kissing again. Excellent.

They’re lazy Sunday morning kind of kisses, and Buck’s ninety percent sure he has stubble burn on his cheeks and mouth now, but he couldn’t care less. Eddie slides out of him, somewhat, but they’re still a tangle of limbs, rolling around until Eddie gets on top and kisses him good and deep, just a hint of teeth on his lip. His hands are in Eddie’s soft, thick hair, Eddie’s weight is on top of him, and he tastes like satisfaction. Buck’s absolutely melting into the floor. Eddie can just get a pan and scrape him off. He can’t feel his bones.

As much as part of him wants to keep this up for the rest of time, they’re going to be stuck together soon and Buck’s lips are chapped all to hell. “We should…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie laughs, their teeth clacking together, and then Eddie pushes up to his feet and gives Buck a hand.

Buck throws their clothes in the washer, and then they wipe themselves up.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he observes as they wait for their jeans to dry, “But what prompted all of that?”

Eddie’s never kissed him before. He’d dodged Buck’s every attempt. And while he has gone absolutely nuts on the sex—their first time is still ranked as the best sex Buck’s ever had, the comedown the next day notwithstanding—it’s always been with a clear plan in mind. Eddie’s the planner, that’s what he does, and Buck loves that about him, but this was—definitely not planned. This was Eddie being impulsive and throwing himself off the diving board and Buck is…

He’s not _worried_ , exactly. And he’s sure as hell not complaining. But Eddie’s his best friend. He knows the guy’s moods. That’s all.

A strange look crosses Eddie’s face, and he goes kind of still next to Buck. Buck can _feel_ the shift. They’re standing pressed against each other’s sides, up against the table, watching the clothes in the dryer go ‘round and round.

“Shannon’s back.”

It takes a second for the name to have meaning. “…your ex? Chris’s mom?”

Eddie nods. “She. She left, about three years ago. Served me with divorce papers a little while after, it was official last year. Other than that I haven’t heard about her. No phone call, no letter to Chris, nothing. And now… now she’s back and saying she wants to see him.”

Something hot and ugly rises up in Buck’s chest, something he’s never felt before. He want to stand between this woman and Eddie, between her and Christopher, and _snarl_. “She just… left?”

“I left first.” Eddie folds his arms, a gesture that Buck’s come to understand means _I’m not going into detail._ “I don’t know. Part of me wants to give her a chance.”

 _Are you still in love with her?_ The words claw at Buck’s throat, leave him tasting iron when he swallows. “I mean. I’m sure Christopher would love to see her. But you gotta do what’s best for your kid.”

They’re best friends. Buck can do this. He can be Eddie’s friend. This—this sour feeling in his stomach, that he should ignore. It’s just that old fear of being left. Because of his parents, because of Maddie, because of Abby. Eddie’s not leaving. It’s fine. It’s okay.

Eddie sighs. “That’s the thing. I don’t know what’s best.”

If Buck could kiss this better, he would.

The dryer _dings_ and Eddie reaches over, gets out his jeans, tosses Buck his. “It’s going to be… complicated, with her here. We have a custody agreement but… I don’t know.”

Something about that is heavy, foreboding. “Okay.”

“So until I… until I figure it out with her, what’s going to happen with our family…” Eddie finishes getting his pants on and looks over at Buck. “I think we should stop this. Just be friends. No… side benefits.”

_I bought a ticket to Ireland._

It’s like a pit has opened beneath Buck’s feet. Like he’s back in Abby’s apartment again, hearing those words and not comprehending them for a second in a sheer last-minute attempt by his brain to protect his heart.

Not that this is—Eddie’s his best friend. Sex is just sex. Why’s he even making a big deal over it? “We’re still friends though, right?”

“Of course.” Eddie says it like Buck’s an idiot for thinking anything else, and the tightness in Buck’s muscles loosens halfway. Not completely, but halfway. “I just. Need to focus on this. I can’t have any distractions. Or anything… you know.”

Again, there’s a weight, a story here, the rest of the iceberg, that Buck isn’t seeing. “Sure thing. You ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

Eddie nods, brings his arm up like he’s going to clap Buck on the shoulder—and then pauses. Wraps his hand around the back of Buck’s neck instead, steps in, kisses him. He tastes like the last piece of Halloween candy.

“One for the road,” he breathes, his lips brushing up against Buck’s.

Then he’s gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Choices are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No braincells were harmed in the making of this chapter because looking at these two idiots, clearly none were consulted to begin with. I cannot stand them.

Frankly, Buck is pretty sure that any week that starts off with him forty feet in the air trying to talk a woman off a ledge that is both literal and metaphorical while she points a gun at him is a week that needs to go the fuck home, get back in bed, go to sleep, and hit the reset button to try again. Although he’s not unsympathetic. Because the thing is, he gets it, you know? Who hasn’t wanted to climb up onto a freeway sign and stop traffic in order to feel seen for five minutes? Who hasn’t felt like they spend their time wandering around caring about people only to be ignored, unacknowledged, abandoned? 

—okay, maybe Buck’s projecting a little there, and admittedly, the gun is still a bit much. And he would still very much like that gun to be pointed anywhere other than at his chest. He breathes a sigh of relief when Lola finally lowers it, even though they’re not out of the woods yet.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she says. “I just can’t handle being ignored anymore.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Buck says quietly. He feels tension gather in the line around his waist, a sign that Eddie is preparing to pull him back up the second it looks like things might get dicey again, but he takes a small step forward anyway.

_Trust me_ , he thinks. He doesn’t know if he means Lola or Eddie.

Both, probably. 

“Oh, come on,” Lola scoffs, looking him up and down. “Yes, I’m sure you get ignored all the time.”

_More often than you’d think._

“You have a Norman?” Buck replies. “I had an Abby.”

He swallows hard at the hollow ache that springs up in his chest as he takes himself back a few months. Yeah, maybe it’s too personal, maybe he should be trying to make something up instead, but he’s never been too good at that, and honestly? Why take the risk in a delicate situation when he can be honest instead?

“You think that you have something—something special, you know?” He says. “She’s the one. So you wait, and then at some point it hits you—you’re alone. She’s not coming back. You’re just there to collect the mail and it’s piling up and you realize…you just need to face it. And move on.”

Move on. Let go. Stop waiting for people to do things you never asked them for, to become something you never said you—

Buck cuts that train of thought right off at the pass. He’s talking about him and Abby. Not…anything else. There’s nothing else to talk about anyway.

It works. Lola hands Buck the gun and he passes it up to Eddie and doesn’t need to look to hear the clicks of rapid disassembly. And then Buck gets her to safety and everyone breathes a little easier.

“What did you say to her?” Bobby asks. Buck shrugs.

“Just…told her it would all be okay.”

He’s not sure he can say he believes it himself, but hey. Whatever works?

Bobby claps him on the shoulder and walks away and Buck is about to push off the side of the ambulance and follow when Eddie comes around the side and stops him.

“You okay?” Eddie asks. He keeps Buck in place with an easy hand on his chest, eyes tracking over him. Buck tries not to react to the contact—it’s been a couple weeks since Eddie said they should remove the extra benefits from their friendship, and Buck is fine, really, he’s great, it’s just that his body hasn’t quite caught up to his brain and automatically equates Eddie’s hands on him with intimacy. 

It takes Buck a minute to understand—

_Oh. The gun._

He warms despite himself, rolling his shoulders back and flashing a grin.

“Worried about me?”

Eddie bites his cheek and steps back. “Worried about your head maybe,” he shoots back. “Unless I missed the part of our training where they told us to walk towards the people with the guns.”

“Eh, she wasn’t gonna shoot me. I’m a smooth talker.”

Eddie rolls his eyes then, but he’s clearly also barely holding back a laugh so Buck takes that as a win.

“Uh huh. Sure you are.”

Buck bites back the return quip on the tip of his tongue about proving it—he’s trying, okay? He gets that Eddie is in a difficult position. He gets that what Eddie really needs right now is a friend, not a fuckbuddy. 

But he does feel a little bit like he’s stumbling around a minefield blindfolded given that his default setting is usually…flirt.

“Hey,” Buck says instead, pushing off the side of the ambulance and knocking into Eddie’s shoulder as he walks past him. “I wasn’t worried. Knew you had my back if anything went south. So…”

He doesn’t look over to see Eddie’s face, but he can’t help noticing the pause, the way Eddie clears his throat after.

“Of course,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s not even sure he’s meant to hear it, but it makes his chest tight.

“Eddie! Buck! Time to go!” 

Well. Moment over.

Buck welcomes the chance to go out later, to just hang out and have a beer with Chim and forget about Eddie and Abby and fuckbuddies and girlfriends and ex-wives for a few hours. Except…then Maddie shows up and all Buck can do is watch his sister and Chim drink and eat and do karaoke while feeling increasingly like more and more of a third wheel, and normally he actually would text Eddie about this, except that Eddie is at a parent-teacher open house thing tonight to meet with all of Christopher’s teachers and find out how he’s been settling in at his new school, so Buck isn’t going to interrupt him and—

Huh.

Taylor Kelly is at the bar.

Taylor Kelly is at the bar and…buying him another drink. And she’s pretty and not being terribly subtle about the fact that she’s into him, and he’s had just enough to drink that it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Buck doesn’t really remember getting up from the bar, but he’s fully aware when Taylor pulls him into the bathroom, is more than happy to kiss her hard and filthy and fish a condom out of his wallet as he holds her up against the wall with one arm because she’s light enough, and maybe even as he’s kissing her he’s missing the possibility of stubble burn, but Taylor is here and she wants him when Abby didn’t want him and Eddie doesn’t want him, so—

When he sets her down after, she fixes her skirt, kisses him again, and pats his cheek.

“Thanks,” she says, dragging her thumb across a smear of lipstick that he can taste on his lower lip. “That was really good for me. See you around.”

And then she turns and walks out and Buck feels…confused.

Because objectively, yeah, it was hot, it was good, but he doesn’t _feel_ good. There’s still a hollowness in his chest, an itch under his skin. And guilt.

Inexplicably. Unreasonably. He feels guilty.

Buck sighs heavily and lets his head fall back against the bathroom wall.

_Fuck._

Honestly, Buck wishes that the universe had taken him up on his offer for it to hit the reset button on the week. Or at the very least, wishes that he had read the signs and made the smarter choice to call in sick for the rest of the week or something. Because it…does not get better.

His next shift, they spend all day and half the night carving a pair of newlyweds out of a crushed car, still in their clothes from the wedding ceremony. Technically, things could have been worse—at least both of them survived—but it gets under Buck’s skin anyway. What the hell could this couple possibly have done to deserve that? And sure, Buck knows after doing this job for long enough that people don’t get what they deserve and sometimes there’s no reason for tragedy, but Jesus Christ. 

And then, when he tries to drown that feeling by seeking out Taylor again, he ends up alone in a parking lot with his pants undone feeling even worse than before. 

It’s nearly 1AM by the time he gets home and showers and falls into bed, but Buck finds himself still holding his phone anyway. He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. 

“Buck?”

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I don’t—” Eddie clears his throat. “—nevermind. What’s, uh, what’s up?”

Buck drops his head back against the pillows, holding the phone to his ear with one hand while the other drags through his hair. He closes his eyes.

_I miss your hands. I miss your body. I miss—_

“Nothing,” Buck replies. “I just—how’s Shannon?”

“You called me after midnight to ask me about my ex-wife?” Buck can hear the heavy skepticism over the line.

“Well, you haven’t exactly been an open book.”

A pause. “She keeps calling, I keep not picking up,” Eddie says finally. “Because I still don’t know what to do. Eventually I’ll have to answer though. The last thing I want is for her to call her lawyer instead.”

Buck swallows. “What did you mean? When you said you left first?”

“Buck…it’s been a long day.”

“Tell me anyway?”

For a minute, Buck thinks Eddie’s going to say no. But then he sighs.

“We were just idiot kids screwing around when she got pregnant,” Eddie admits. “I liked her a hell of a lot. Loved her—maybe. We never really got the space to figure any of that out. Between my family and her mom—you get pregnant, you get married, that was what we knew, so we did. And I went down to the nearest army recruiting center a few days after the wedding and signed up without even talking to her about it. Was off to basic training a few weeks later. For the first four years of Christopher’s life I was home for a handful of weeks at most, seeing them in pictures and over a video screen, and then even when I came back I wasn’t—I wasn’t what she needed. So.”

Buck wets his lips. “You’ll have to forgive me for not feeding your guilt complex, but that still doesn’t sound equivalent to her walking out on her kid to me.”

“Yeah, well. Guess we’ll agree to disagree on that.”

“You’re a really good dad, Eddie,” Buck says, because everything else that comes to mind feels too big, too much, skitters off his tongue before he can actually form the words. It’s probably for the best.

“Why did you really call, Buck?” Eddie asks.

Buck shrugs even though he knows Eddie can’t see him. 

“You ever do something that you kind of know going in is a bad idea, but you do it anyway?”

Buck’s not sure if he means Taylor or Abby or…whatever Eddie is, but it’s late enough that he doesn’t have to think too hard about it.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Buck sighs. “I, uh, I slept with Taylor Kelly again tonight.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s tone is indecipherable. “Buck—”

“She didn’t see me,” he interrupts. “She doesn’t—I don’t know what I’m doing, but she doesn’t—”

“She’s selfish, Buck,” Eddie says. “She doesn’t see anyone. That’s not your fault.”

Somehow, it’s the first time Buck’s heard a variation on _it’s not you, it’s X_ that doesn’t still feel like a gut punch.

“Eddie…thank you.”

“It’s just the truth. Don’t have to thank me for saying that.”

“Still.”

Silence falls, and Buck bites his lip. It feels like they’re in a weird liminal space, between the dark of his room and the lateness of the hour, like anything they do or say isn’t quite real, doesn’t count. It feels like it would be easy to cross a line.

Easy.

“Go to sleep, Buck,” Eddie says, pulling them back from the edge. Buck doesn’t have it in him to argue.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

It still takes him awhile to fall asleep.

* * *

By the end of the week, Eddie is ready to throw in the towel. If he’s honest, he’s been ready since the first shift of the week—since he was stuck watching Buck from the safety of an overpass while a keyed up housewife got trigger-happy with a gun. Eddie’s still not sure he breathed that whole time, especially when Buck stepped towards her instead of staying in place or retreating. After, all Eddie wanted to do was get his hands on Buck, check him over even though logically Eddie knew he was fine—or, even better, to lay Buck out on the nearest flat surface and work him over until he was too fucked out to remember his own name, let alone how to be reckless.

But. They’re not doing that anymore. So Eddie shoved the thought down.

Of course, then the following shift started with Eddie overhearing Buck telling Bobby that he slept with Taylor Kelly, and that knowledge is—

Not his business. That’s what Eddie reminds himself every time he finds himself thinking about it, his gut twisting and shoulders tensing as he wonders abstractly if it was good, if Buck liked it, if Taylor marked Buck up. Not his business. 

And then, Buck calls. 

Eddie’s not so oblivious that he doesn’t know a call after midnight from someone you’ve had sex with has at least a fifty percent chance of being an invitation for more. And he can admit to himself at least, even if not to Buck, that for all that he feels like he can’t, like he needs to be a responsible adult who doesn’t have casual sex with a coworker just in case Shannon’s reappearance ends up blowing up his life—for all that, he really wants to kiss Buck again anyway.

But Buck doesn’t push things the way Eddie expects him to. Instead, Buck asks about Shannon, of all things, and Eddie is surprised enough and tired enough that he feels compelled to actually answer. He wants to ask about Abby in response, because part of him can’t help thinking about the things Buck said while talking Lola down on the freeway sign, about the rawness in Buck’s voice, a rawness that’s echoed when Buck admits to sleeping with Taylor again, when he says _she didn’t see me_ , but Eddie swallows his questions. 

Eddie’s tempted too to close his eyes and let his voice drop low, is almost positive he could give Buck a little of what he needs just like that—could make Buck shiver with just his voice over the phone and replace the edge in Buck’s words with satisfaction. But that’s not fair either. The last thing he wants is to yank Buck around, especially when he has five missed calls from Shannon that he still needs to deal with. Friends, no side benefits. That’s what he said. So…he reins in the instinct and hangs up and goes back to what he had been doing before Buck called—staring up at his bedroom ceiling trying to remind himself that the gunshots ricocheting around his head and the phantom ache in his shoulder aren’t real anymore. 

The last shift of the week is…rough. It happens, Eddie is used to it even if he’s only officially been doing this job for a few months. In the army, he got really good at accepting the fact that the last thing the world likes to be is fair. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it a little when they’re called out to a fancy house to try and save an elderly man pinned between a gate and his husband’s car.

Eddie knows before they even get started that it’s probably a lost cause, and sure enough—

It’s the husband—Thomas—that gets to him the most. Eddie had turned away to give the man some privacy, only for Buck to start shouting when Thomas collapsed, still holding the hand of his late husband. Eddie drops to his knees next to Buck, who is muttering half-under his breath while he attempts CPR, and Eddie swallows hard as he glances over Buck’s head to meet Bobby’s eyes, shaking his head a fraction.

“Buck,” Bobby says quietly, setting a hand on Buck’s shoulder, and Buck looks up, first at Bobby, then over to Eddie, and back. 

“No—no, he was just talking,” Buck insists, even as Bobby gently pulls him aside so Eddie can take over. “He was fine, he was—he was—”

“It happens.”

Buck is quiet on their drive back to the station, his eyes fixed vacantly on the wall of the ambulance. Eddie keeps glancing over, unsure what to say, what to do. 

“They were together for almost their whole lives,” Buck says finally, like he’s not even really talking to Eddie, just speaking aloud. They pull into the station and stop, but Eddie doesn’t move to exit the rig, just shifts around to sit next to Buck, their shoulders pressing together. When Bobby opens the door to the back of the rig, Eddie just meets his eyes and shakes his head.

_I got this._

And Bobby closes the door again. Eddie’s not sure Buck even noticed.

“I can’t even imagine—” Buck cuts himself off. “He told me all about it. How they loved each other for decades, even when it wasn’t—God, Eddie, he was _fine_ , I swear.”

“It happens,” Eddie says quietly. Certain things bear repeating. 

“Do you think it was easier? To just—instead of having to face being alone again after all of that, a whole life.”

Eddie doesn’t even really think about it, just moves his arm around Buck’s shoulders, pulling Buck into his side. Buck exhales shakily and turns his face into Eddie’s neck.

“I don’t know,” Eddie admits. “Maybe. He wasn’t young, Buck, it could have been anything. But whatever the reason—it wasn’t your fault.” 

“I know that. I just—” It’s muffled by Eddie’s uniform collar, and Buck shrugs helplessly when he breaks off. “That’s what love is, huh?”

“I guess it is,” Eddie replies. Although goodness knows, he hasn’t felt like that about anyone, like he might as well just lay down and die if they left. If anything happened to Christopher—yeah, that might do it. But when Shannon left…no. Not even close.

Buck pulls away after another moment, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“Thanks,” he says. “You, uh—you didn’t have to do that.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

Eddie doesn’t miss the way Buck’s eyes flicker to his mouth. He also doesn’t miss the hot flash of want that elicits in himself. Buck sways forward a fraction—then turns his head and clears his throat.

“We should—”

“Right. Yeah, of course.”

Eddie tries not to think about the disappointment he swallows when Buck climbs out of the rig.

He calls Shannon later. Finally. It’s not a long conversation, but it’s…a start.

“Coffee,” he says. “We can get coffee and talk about Christopher. I’m still—I’m still thinking, okay? But we can talk.”

“Eddie…thank you,” she replies. 

“Only about Christopher, though,” Eddie clarifies. Because he wants to be very explicit about one thing. “You and me—that’s over. Any possibility of us fixing things ended when we signed those papers and I’m not interested in revisiting that. So…don’t kiss me again. Okay?”

“Is there someone else?”

“No. But for the record, you don’t have the right to ask me that question either.”

“Okay,” Shannon says. “Got it. Loud and clear. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“See you then.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just friends, no side benefits. That's what they decided.
> 
> It's going really well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one really was a team effort! Also...these boys keep making me want to shake them over Nonsense and then they have the sheer audacity to turn around and make me feel things. Smdh. My apologies in advance.

Buck has a girlfriend.

Buck…has a girlfriend. 

It doesn’t matter how many times Eddie thinks it, the words never fail to leave a bad taste in his mouth. And it’s not that it’s the principle of the thing, it’s that Buck casually mentioned it once and hasn’t spoken about her again except to say she’s not around much because she travels a lot for work and while Eddie has nothing against long-distance relationships, he just can’t help feeling like Buck deserves someone…present. That’s all. Someone that he wants to talk about, who makes him so happy that he walks around like he’s swallowed sunshine. Someone who will be there after the hard shifts when they don’t feel like heroes and don’t know how to talk about it.

Someone who is good.

Buck deserves someone good. 

And okay, fine, maybe Eddie is making a lot of assumptions about someone he’s never met and a relationship he isn’t in, but then again, it’s not like he can correct those assumptions either given the fact that none of them have ever met this woman and Buck doesn’t talk about her. 

…or maybe he’s spending so much time thinking about Buck’s personal life because he doesn’t want to have to deal with his own. 

“So, uh, not that I don’t appreciate the invitation,” Buck says, his shoulder knocking into Eddie’s as they sit on the edge of the fountain, watching Christopher stand in line to meet Santa, “but shouldn’t you be doing this with Shannon?”

“She wanted to, but I—” Eddie sighs. “I don’t know.”

They’ve had coffee, he’s brought her copies of Christopher’s artwork and school assignments so she can feel included, he’s done everything short of, well…actually letting her see Christopher.

“Things going that bad?” 

“No, they’re fine. Surprisingly, she’s been pretty understanding, but it’s been nearly two months and it’s Christmas so she’s a little…” Frustrated? Pissed? “I guess I can’t blame her.”

“He’s a great kid,” Buck says quietly, still watching Christopher. “You’re just trying to protect him. I get that. I’m sure she does too.”

“I forgave her for leaving,” Eddie admits. “I guess I just…don’t trust her not to do it again, you know? But she is his mom, and I know he misses her. And it’s Christmas.”

Buck looks over at him. Eddie feels it even as he keeps his own eyes on Christopher, with his bright smile and radiant innocence. 

“You thinking about inviting her over?”

Eddie bites his lip. “Yeah.” He finally takes his eyes off of his son and looks back at Buck, flashing a small smile. “You want to join?”

Buck laughs and ducks his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “And spend Christmas as an awkward buffer for you and your wife?”

“Ex-wife.” He doesn’t know why it feels important to say that, but it does. 

For half a second, it looks like Buck might actually be considering it, but then he shakes his head.

“Bobby and Athena invited me over. And then I was going to go spend some time with Maddie. She—she’s been going through some stuff and I want to be there for her, you know?”

“Right.” It sticks in Eddie’s throat. “No, yeah, of course.”

And then an elf is helping Christopher down the walkway to them, and Eddie is saved from having to think of anything else to say.

“Hey, buddy! What did you ask for?”

“Can’t tell.”

Eddie laughs as he picks up his son. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

He’s only a few steps away when he hears it.

“You two have an adorable son.”

Eddie’s breath catches. His chest feels like there’s something crushing it in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that he’s carrying Chris, and his ears strain for the denial, the clarification.

It doesn’t come.

“Uh—” Buck laughs. “Thank you.”

“Dad?”

Eddie snaps out of it, clearing his throat as Buck catches up with them.

“Sorry, buddy. What were you saying?”

“Hot chocolate?”

“You got it.”

* * *

Buck is doing great. 

He is. It’s a new year, he has a new girlfriend. He’s…growing. Learning. Being responsible. 

When Ali first called him, he wasn’t sure if he should say yes, but after Taylor, after the way he almost kissed Eddie in the back of an ambulance because Eddie was good and comforting and Buck is an idiot who really should have known better than to—

He needed something different. Something new. Something—something that wasn’t a hookup in a bar or casual sex with his best friend. Something that meant something, with someone who was looking for the same thing.

And Ali is nice. Ali is pretty and funny and makes him laugh, and yeah, okay, so she’s also busy and never around, but if there’s one thing he got good at with Abby it was talking on the phone. The point is, he’s trying. He’s trying to do better.

So maybe it’s a little easier, after Ali, to keep a platonic distance between himself and Eddie. Nothing wrong with that. Boundaries are good. 

New year, new girlfriend, new Buck. Easy.

“How’s earthquake girl?” Maddie teases, shaking out her fists between boxing combinations. 

“She’s fine. She’s around,” Buck replies. “We’re taking things slow. She’s in New York this week on business.”

“Why is it that every girl you date feels like she has to flee the country? Or the state?”

It’s a joke, but it stings, hitting that messy, raw piece of him that Abby left behind when he kissed her goodbye at an airport and promised to wait for her only for her to decide—

To decide he wasn’t good enough to be worth sticking around for. 

“At least when I date someone, I date them,” he fires back.

“What are you talking about?”

“How’s Chimney?”

The problem with sparring with your siblings, even verbally? They know your weak spots. Even when you don’t expect them to.

Which is why it catches Buck up when they take a break, long after the end of the conversation, and Maddie says—

“At least when you date someone you date them…you were seeing someone before this though. But you never said anything. Was that dating, or…?”

Buck chokes on a sip of water. 

“I don’t—” He splutters. “What?”

Maddie crosses her arms and stares him down. “You were depressed over Abby and then you were suddenly beyond fine, Chimney says you had some sort of sex injury that you were suspiciously quiet about several months ago, and then after Halloween you were back to being depressed and decided to screw a reporter in a bar bathroom. Look me in the eye and tell me that was still just about Abby.”

“I…” Buck takes another sip of water and looks away. The cooling sweat on his back is suddenly far more uncomfortable than it was before, and he’s tempted to beg off for the locker room showers. Although given the way Maddie is looking at him, that would probably only delay the inevitable.

“That wasn’t—we weren’t—” His gut twists. Stupid. It’s not like this matters. “—that was just sex.”

Just great sex. Just perfect sex. Buck’s mind flickers back to the last time, to Eddie kissing him on the floor of the loft, and Buck yanks himself out of the memory like he’s slamming a door. 

They had a deal. Friends. And that’s still what they are, so there’s really no reason why it should make him ache to think about it.

“Just sex,” Maddie repeats. “And no feelings whatsoever, I’m sure—right?”

Buck swallows hard. “Right.”

Maddie sighs and leans against the wall next to him. “You know…rebounding to a long-distance relationship? Might not be the best plan you’ve ever had.”

_Well, it’s the only one I’ve got, so…_

“We Buckleys make a hell of a pair, don’t we?”

“Apparently so.” Maddie reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Think we might just turn out okay though.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”

_I hope so._

* * *

Bobby’s text says _Chim’s been attacked, we’re at the hospital._ Bobby’s text gives an address. Bobby’s text says _Maddie’s ex got to her. I think Buck could use your support._

Bobby’s text fails to mention that Buck’s in fucking police custody.

“What the hell?”

“He tried to do things his own way,” Athena says, her tone laced with about five different kinds of unimpressed.

Eddie can feel his eyebrows climbing up into his hair as she explains. Well then. Buck’s never been one to hold back or follow the rules on a good day, and when someone he loves is in danger…

“You think I should talk to him?” He looks over at Bobby. Bobby, who treats Buck like his own son. How can Eddie—what could Eddie possibly give Buck that nobody else could? Eddie’s not exactly anyone special. Sure, they’re friends, but.

He couldn’t give Shannon what she needed. Could barely do it for Christopher. He nearly had his kid taken away. Why would he do a better job than Bobby of all people, the one guy who always knows what to say?

Bobby gets a look on his face, like he wants to say one thing, but is going to actually say something else. “He’ll say things to you he won’t say to me.”

Eddie’s not even gonna bother dissecting that cryptic sentence. He just shoves his hands into his pockets and strides on over to Buck before he thinks too hard about what to say and makes a worse mess of things. 

“So. That was a bold move.”

“Yeah, I know.” Buck’s eyes are rimmed red. Shit. He looks seconds away from breaking down and some awful, skeletal monster rises to life in Eddie’s chest. He wants to take Buck’s heart out of Buck’s chest and draw it carefully between his own clawed hands, into his own chest, cradle it and keep it safe and snarl at anyone who makes Buck look as broken as he does now.

“‘What were you thinking, Buck?’ I already got an earful from Athena.” Buck tries to sound nonchalant and it falls flat.

Athena and Bobby are facing away from them, and Eddie doesn’t give a shit what the random beat cop standing behind them thinks—but whatever impulses he’s feeling, he knows he can’t act on them. Buck has a girlfriend now. There are boundaries.

Eddie shrugs, sits back against the wall. “Well, I know what you were thinking. I’ve got sisters, too. Still not sure how you thought you were getting away with it, though.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” Of course he wasn’t. Buck is never worried for himself. Someday it’s going to get him killed and on that day Eddie will find a way to resurrect the idiot just so he can kill him all over again for his stupidity.

Buck leans into him, voice trusting, intimate. He can fucking smell Buck, the woodsy cologne (Buck has this weird correlation between lumberjacks and firefighters, maybe it’s the axe thing), the salty-musky smell that’s just _Buck_ , no additives—and the stinging scent of sweat. Worry. Fear. God, Buck’s practically shaking with it. 

“See the police have all these rules, you know? Rules that are going to get Maddie killed. But I’m a civilian. Those—those rules, they don’t apply to me, right?”

Eddie eyes him. “Then why are you in hospital jail?”

Buck deflates. “I told Maddie—” He cuts himself off. Starts again. “I said that she didn’t need to keep on running, that she could start over here, that she would be safe. That I would keep her safe.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

Buck just leans forward, hands draped over his knees, looking like he wants to punch himself.

God, it’s so stupid, it’s so fucking stupid, but—it doesn’t have to be—anything, it’s just Buck needs _grounding_ , and who else is going to do it? Ali? She’s not here. Bobby? Not that kind of affectionate.

Eddie reaches over, cups the back of Buck’s neck, gently scratches through the short hair at the back of his head. Pets it, just for a few seconds. Buck shudders, and for a second, Eddie’s sure he’s done the wrong thing. But then—Buck presses up into the touch. Makes the tiniest, wounded noise in the back of his throat.

“What if she had kept running?” He keeps his touch gentle. This is a friends thing. Friends can do this. Comfort each other like this. And Buck needs it, clearly, needs an anchor before he shatters to pieces. “You think he wouldn’t have found her? Only then she’d be alone.”

Buck closes his eyes, and Eddie’s hand goes still. “She’s alone now. With him.”

Eddie would give literally anything right now to lean in and draw Buck to him, tuck Buck’s face into his neck again. That had calmed Buck down last time, in the truck, soothed him. Kissing, intimate and lovely as it is, isn’t always appropriate for the situation, so he wouldn’t be doing that even if Buck was single, but— _God_ he just wants to hold him and he fucking can’t.

Athena finishes whatever phone call she’s on and turns around. Eddie pulls his hand away—it feels like he’s fighting a magnet—and settles back. This isn’t his fight, as much as he wants it to be.

“I spoke with Detective Marks, he’s not happy with you.”

Buck splutters. “Yeah, I—I know—”

“You broke the chain of custody, you unlocked Chimney’s phone without his permission, Marks can’t use any of it.” At least Athena doesn’t sound pissed all to Hell anymore.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Buck’s at the end of his rope and Eddie wonders how much trouble he’ll be in with Bobby if he snaps at Athena to lay off. “I was trying to help.”

“Okay. Let’s go. The car’s out front.”

Eddie can’t help himself. He tenses.

“You’re arresting me.” Buck sounds incredulous and defeated at the same time.

“Not yet.” Is that a twinkle he sees in Athena’s eyes? “But the night’s still young.”

“I guess his little stunt paid off after all,” Eddie notes as Bobby sinks down into the chair next to him.

Bobby hums. “I guess so.”

Silence falls. It’s not uncomfortable.

Then Bobby says, “Buck’s lucky to have you,” and stands up again.

For some reason, the lack of _a friend like_ in between _have_ and _you_ feels significant.

But then Bobby’s asking him if he wants some coffee before they check on Chim again, and Eddie shoves it away. It’s his own paranoia, his own awareness of what he wants, how he wants, versus what he can actually have—now that they’ve ended certain parts of their friendship, and Buck has a girlfriend. He's just finding that now that he knows what it’s like to touch Buck… he can’t unknow it.

He can get used to it, though. He’s gotten used to a lot of things. Shannon, for one. He can definitely find a way to get used to this.

* * *

“Eddie!”

If Buck thought the world dropped out from under him—a little bit literally—when the ladder on the truck snapped under his weight and sent him falling, that’s nothing to how he feels when he’s back on the ground and sees Eddie climbing up the side of a flaming house with no supports. 

“I feel like if I did that, you would yell at me,” he says to Bobby as they watch, forcing casual in order to stay steady, focused, trying not to reveal that everything around him is just white noise. There’s an anvil on his chest and fire burning his lungs—of course Eddie would get stuck inside the one house that’s the worst on the block, collapsing and exploding like no tomorrow, and he calls _Buck_ reckless, everyone says _Buck’s_ the stupid one—and when another explosion shatters glass and brings down another section of the roof with Eddie inside, Buck flinches and takes a step towards the house, only to be stopped by Bobby’s hand grabbing the back of his jacket. 

“Negative on evac, Cap.” Eddie’s voice crackles over the radio. “Pinned down, south side of the house.”

Buck rips away from Bobby, not even really thinking, just moving, one foot in front of the other, racing back to the truck.

“I can climb up there,” he insists. “I can make that jump, I can help him—”

They don’t get a chance to get into it before the air fills with the sound of an approaching plane. And then they’re all diving for cover and water is crashing down around them and—

Buck starts running for the house the second they’re clear, his heart in his throat—he can’t even hear it beating, it’s like his body’s stopped and yet, somehow, he’s moving— _Eddie, c’mon, please_ —

The front door is kicked open, and Eddie stumbles out, the kid in his arms.  
Buck can’t feel his legs.

“What’s with the Spiderman routine?” Buck’s smiling, grinning, an idiot, a fool, but he can’t make himself stop, so flooded with relief that he can barely hold himself up. He swallows. He can’t stop—can’t stop looking at Eddie. 

“I prayed a lot,” Eddie says. And Buck’s throat goes tight because yeah. Yeah that makes sense. Because he almost just—

The instant elation starts to fade out, replaced by a messy swirl of emotions—yes, the relief is still there, but there’s also anger, frustration—sure, it was badass, it was heroic, Eddie saved the kid and got out, but it was also the stupidest fucking thing and Eddie could’ve—

“To think, you were mad at me for stepping towards a woman with a gun,” Buck says as he follows Eddie to the truck.

Eddie glances over at him. “Oh, like you wouldn’t have done the same if you’d thought of it?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Eddie turns to face him, braces his hand on the side of the truck. It’s a challenge, and Buck can never turn one of those down, for better or for worse (usually for worse).

_The point is when you run into danger you take me with you, even if I’m standing outside._

Buck swallows hard. His throat still feels too tight, and it’s still hard to breathe, and all he can see is the way Eddie’s face is streaked with soot, all he can think about is _what if_ and it’s—

“The point is, you can’t call me out for putting myself in danger when you do the exact same thing. And I know that’s the job, but what you just did—you can’t say it wasn’t reckless.”

Eddie stares at him, confusion plain on his face, like he doesn’t understand why they’re arguing about something that happened months ago, and yeah, Buck can admit maybe he should just leave well enough alone. But there’s an emptiness inside him, like the panic hollowed him out, and he’s spoiling for a fight, any fight, wants to see how far he can push—Eddie’s fine? Let him prove it. 

“I did what I had to do to save that kid,” Eddie says slowly. “Stepping closer to a crazy lady with a gun is not the same thing.”

“Oh, and you get to be the judge of that?” Buck’s heart was silent before but now it’s pounding so loudly it’s like war drums. “You don’t get to decide the difference! You don’t get to tell me—you don’t get to worry about me—and then go and do the exact same thing—”

“I was doing my job.”

“So was I!”

“What do you want from me, Buck?” Eddie demands, pushing off the truck. Buck may technically have a couple inches on Eddie, but when Eddie steps into his space, jaw clenched and shoulders tense, it doesn’t feel like it. “Want me to apologize? Want me to—what, not care about you? Give you a pass the next time you take a crazy risk because I did it too?”

_Prove it, prove it, prove it._

What does he want? He wants to stop feeling out of control. Wants to stop being stuck in place with nothing to do but watch while the people he cares about end up in danger. 

He’s not good at the watch-and-wait routine. 

“Maybe I just want you to stop treating me like a worried spouse,” Buck shoots back, and Eddie freezes.

An uncomfortable silence falls. Eddie’s jaw ticks.

“Yeah, well—you might want to take your own advice, because I’m not the one acting like a worried spouse right now, Buck.”

“Boys?” It’s Hen, poking her head around the far end of the truck. “We sure could use some help over here.”

Eddie brushes soot off his gloves. His face is red, and Buck would blame it on the heat from the fire he was just in, except that Eddie’s face was normal two seconds ago. 

“Let’s go,” Eddie says. “ _Dear_.”

Buck’s been slapped in the face a couple of times—not recently, but it’s not really the kind of thing you forget. There’s something so… demeaning about a slap. Like you’re not worth a proper punch to keep you down.

This feels like a slap.

When Eddie storms off, Buck doesn’t follow.

* * *

It was a stupid fight. Even weeks later, Eddie still doesn’t even understand where it came from or why it happened or how it turned out the way it did. He understands that Buck was worried, and okay, fine, maybe they’re both a little hypocritical when it comes to personal safety, but Eddie doesn’t think that warrants verbally cutting each other to ribbons on a call. It reminded him of their first shift, Buck just throwing nonsense at him to get a reaction, except now Eddie can’t solve it by shoving Buck against a wall and sticking his tongue down his throat. And since Eddie also hadn’t been expecting it, he wasn’t exactly at his best either.

Fuck.

He should apologize.

Eddie means to, he really does, because frankly, working with Buck while there’s weird tension lingering between them is only tenable for so long, but then Bobby gets suspended and—

“I’m leaving.”

—Eddie ends up with more pressing issues to deal with than Buck.

“What—Shannon.” Eddie rakes a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the living room while Shannon sits on the couch in front of him. “You can’t just—you show up, you demand that I let you back into Christopher’s life, and now you want to up and leave again?”

“I’ll be back,” she insists. “I just—Eddie, I wasn’t good at being his mom the first time around and I’m trying, but I still feel like I’m failing constantly—I just need a little time to figure out how to get better at it.”

“Like the three years of time you took before?” Eddie says, and he doesn’t feel good about the way Shannon winces, but there’s something hot and harsh and protective clawing at his throat, and he’s angry because he _knew_ another shoe was going to drop eventually, and now it’s here and he can’t—

He should have known better.

“That’s not fair.”

“You don’t learn how to be a parent by running away from it, Shannon. You learn by showing up and sticking around.”

She laughs and stands up, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s really rich coming from you.”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows back the guilt because that—his own failings, his own guilt—isn’t relevant. He’s acknowledged that he fucked up—he came home, he learned, he tried, he fucking stayed. There are plenty of other times when that can be thrown in his face, but not right now. “Yeah, I left. I wasn’t around. Fine, be pissed at me. But you came back and you made a promise to our son that you were going to be in his life—you don’t get to waltz in and out of it whenever it’s convenient for you!” 

Shannon looks away. Swallows.

“A month,” she says finally. “That’s all, I promise. I’ll be back.”

_And what the fuck am I supposed to tell him in the meantime?_

“Shannon—” 

“Goodbye, Eddie.”

Sometimes, the universe has a twisted sense of irony. Because Eddie spends the rest of the day being angry at her for leaving, angry at himself for forgiving her, for trusting her even when his gut told him not to, and just when he shifts from anger to trying to talk himself down, trying to convince himself that she really will come back like she promised—

“I’m leaving again,” Shannon whispers on the gurney, and Eddie is numb, unable to process anything. He’s a trained medic, he knows what’s happening, knows what it means that Chim hasn’t tried to intubate her yet, knows what the looks being exchanged over his head mean. But everything is just…

Shock. Denial.

“No,” Eddie says, grabbing her hand. “You’re going to be fine, okay? You’re—”

“Eddie.” She blinks and tears slide down her cheeks. “Eddie, I’m so sorry. I’m so—”

He shakes his head. “Don’t—it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it now, we can—”

“We both know there’s not—not going to be a later,” Shannon replies. “I—Christopher—I love him. I love him so much, you know that.”

“I do. I know.”

“You’ll tell him that? You’ll make sure he knows—I didn’t want to go like this, I didn’t—”

“I’ll tell him,” Eddie chokes out, and then her hand slips from his and he’s pushed back as Chim and Hen snap to work.

Not that it matters.

Eddie’s getting too used to uncomfortable hospital chairs. But his whole body feels like it’s been injected with concrete. He can’t move. Can’t go anywhere. Because getting up means going home, means picking up Christopher from school, means having to tell him that his mother—

“Eddie.”

_Buck._

Buck sits down next to him, and the fight doesn’t matter anymore, feels so far away that it may as well have been years ago rather than weeks. Buck touches Eddie’s shoulder—tentative, haltingly—but when Eddie leans into it, Buck goes further, hugging him the best he can manage in their cramped, awkward position. 

The fissures widen, cracks spreading further, and maybe it doesn’t make sense for this to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back when Shannon leaving the first time didn’t and the divorce didn’t and his parents didn’t, but Eddie has spent so long holding himself together with tape and glue and fucking bandaids, and in an hour, maybe two, he really is going to have to sit his son down and break his heart, so—

Eddie lets himself break. Just a little. Turns his head into Buck’s shoulder and sobs.

And Buck doesn’t let go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a special kudos to extasiswings who brought me to tears of laughter with the Buckley sibling interaction.

Everything’s normal, until it isn’t.

They’re headed for the call, sirens blaring, all the usual—and then the explosion.

Eddie’s first thought is _Buck’s in there._

They stop the truck and clamber out, only to freeze—Eddie nearly runs into Hen, who’s almost run into Chim—and stare.

The entire ladder truck is down. People are scrambling away, getting clear, blood and soot on them—all except one person, who’s trapped underneath, pinned by the leg.

No.

No, no, no— _no—_

“What do we do?” Hen whispers to Chim.

Buck’s pinned, he’s pinned under the fucking ladder, and Eddie can see—there’s just enough light flickering he can see Buck’s face, _fuck_ —

He’s heard Buck groan and moan before, but always in pleasure, and those sounds are nothing like the ones he’s hearing come out of Buck right now.

 _He’ll be in shock,_ the more analytical part of his mind whispers, the medic in him. _He can’t really feel it right now, not until you take the pressure off, then he’ll really be in pain._

Some snot-nosed bitter little shit is striding around like it’s the third act of a superhero movie and he’s the lead villain. “Where’s the captain!?”

Eddie’s eaten skinny bastards like this for breakfast. And Buck’s running out of time. They have to get to him before the circulation’s cut off for too long or—or they’ll have to amputate and Buck won’t—

He starts to move forward, get to Buck even if he has to break this kid’s fucking neck in the process, but Chimney’s faster, already stepping out, hands up. “I’m the captain.”

The kid sneers at him. “No, no, not _you_.”

Hen inhales sharply, and Eddie takes a small step to his right, gets a better view of the kid’s face. He’s not familiar to him, but clearly, Hen’s recognized him. And far as Eddie knows, there’s only one other person the kid could be talking about.

“I want Captain Nash.”

Fuck, shit, _fuck,_ how could this possibly get any worse? Two of his closest friends are in the line of fire and Buck is bleeding on the ground—he’s not even talking anymore, no noises, just lying there silent, eyes slits, he’s _bleeding_.

Bobby is not taking this kid’s shit and Eddie appreciates that—and then— _fuck_ they’re wrestling, they’re fighting over it, if that bomb goes off they’re only two feet from Buck, if that. Jesus Christ. Eddie’s heart has leapt out of his body and is throwing itself on the ground, over and over, he’s not sure he’s even fucking breathing.

But Bobby does it. He keeps the bomb from going off, and bomb squad takes it.

Eddie’s running for Buck before he even realizes he’s moving.

Buck’s twitching, his arms moving, like he’s reaching for something but can’t get his body to coordinate. Eddie grabs his arm, presses two fingers to Buck’s neck. “His skin is cold and clammy.”

“How’re you feeling, Buck?” Hen asks, opening up the kit.

“…n-numb.” The word takes effort, so much effort, and Eddie thinks he might rip apart this truck with his bare hands.

“Hold on.” He grasps Buck’s hand tight as he can. “Just squeeze, we’re gonna get you out.”

“We need the ladder off him!” someone—Chim? Bobby?—yells, and firefighters start lifting…

Buck _screams_ , a rough, raw sound, and his hand convulses in Eddie’s. “Hold on, Buck, just hold on.”

They can’t lift it enough. The ladder truck fall again and Buck makes a noise that burrows into Eddie’s chest and pierces his spine.

“We need to get it higher!” Hen yells. Yeah, no shit.

They all try again. Buck screams, and Eddie pulls with all his fucking might. “Hang on, Buck—”

“Come on…” Hen mutters.

The truck falls again, and Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand so hard Eddie’s pretty sure the bones of his fingers just rearranged. Not that he’s complaining. If Buck is squeezing, it means he has motor control, and if he’s in pain, it means his leg’s not gone yet. They still have a chance.

“It’s no use,” Bobby says.

Like _fuck_ it’s no use. “Is there anything in the truck we could use for leverage?”

“We need more people.”

Buck makes that tiny, wounded noise, the one he made in the hospital when Maddie was taken, and Eddie realizes he’s petting through Buck’s hair.

Nobody’s looking at them, except Hen, but she seems a lot more concerned about Buck’s leg than anything else.

“I’ll radio again,” Chim says.

There’s the sound of something, a chain, and Eddie turns—

People are running towards them.

“Grab here!” “Lift here!” “Coordinate!” “Grab anywhere you can!” “On three!”

Everyone’s grabbing on, lifting, and something in him nearly cracks to pieces and breaks open. These are bystanders, it’s not their job, they have no obligation, but they’re here and they’re saving Buck’s life.

“Lift!” Hen screams, and everyone _does,_ and the ladder truck fucking _moves_.

He can see Buck’s foot.

Buck makes a scream that’s barely even a scream, like the sound ripped its claws into him as it tore its way up his throat and out of his mouth, and Eddie yanks with all his might, Hen on the other side, and they pull Buck free.

He’s not injured, but he can taste blood in his mouth.

Buck’s eyes are streaming as they get him onto the stretcher. Eddie yanks a hand through his hair, realizes sweat’s pouring off him. Buck’s hand moves, searches—Eddie grabs it. “We’ve got you. You’re okay. We’ve got you.”

“Four minutes to the hospital,” Hen says, like she’s warning the universe.

He holds Buck’s hand the entire ride. Buck can’t even talk, he just keeps making this—this _noise_ , one that comes from the very bottom of his chest, like a sound he’s forgotten until now, and Eddie just does his best to keep him awake. “We’re here, you’re okay.”

Buck’s fingers tighten around his, like a question. It’s the second time recently that someone close to him has been like this, lying in an ambulance, rushing against time, but this feels nothing like when he was talking to Shannon. His mouth had been full of regret and ashes then. Now it’s full of blood and fury and terrible, terrible hope.

Hen’s looking somewhere else, so Eddie takes the chance, runs his fingers through Buck’s hair again. Buck squeezes his eyes shut, more tears of pain sliding free, and Eddie makes a soothing noise. “I’m here.”

Buck makes another noise, this one not so much like pain, more like—like relief.

Eddie clings to that.

* * *

Buck feels like he’s floating, which is odd, since he also can’t move. He tries to remember—a hand in his, a voice, _I’m here_. Eddie. Eddie—was worried about him? Worried because—

Because of the pain.

He can feel it race through him like a phantom, the memory—his leg—

Buck’s eyes crack open and the world slowly swims into focus. And for a wild second, he thinks he’s died and gone to Heaven, because he doesn’t feel any pain at all, and the woman smiling down at him is definitely an angel.

Then he realizes that while she’s an angel, she’s also very much alive, and so is he. It’s Carla.

Panic sets in. His—his leg, his _leg_ —

Carla reassures him. “You’ll walk again.”

That’s not what Buck’s worried about. “He—he said he didn’t know if I would ever— _work_ again.”

Carla once again soothes his feelings. It’s almost like it’s her job or something. Then she switches topics. “Ali seems nice.”

…what?

Ali comes in, Maddie behind her. Buck recognizes the look on his sister’s face. It’s the same one that was on his, he’s sure, when he saw her in the hospital after Doug. _I never stopped fighting,_ she’d sobbed, clinging to him, and he wishes he could say the same, but he doesn’t know. He can’t quite remember. All he knows is he was in pain, and he was crying, and Eddie was holding his hand.

Ali’s… sweet. She kisses him softly, and runs her fingers gently against his cheek. But she doesn’t hold his hand tight enough. And she doesn’t pet his hair. That… matters. He’s not sure why. But it… it does.

“Notice he didn’t thank either of us for being here,” Maddie quips.

“I don’t think he even knows we’re here,” Carla teases.

Maddie tilts her head. “Should we go, then?”

“I think there’s a vending machine calling my name.”

They disappear, and Ali gently takes his hands in hers. “How’re you feeling?”

“Um. Okay, I think? Considering. I—the doctor said I might not—work, again, so. Carla’s trying to be positive, but. Nobody knows. So.” He shrugs, or tries to, his body’s not quite back online yet. “At least I didn’t lose it?”

“I heard it was a miracle.” Ali sounds grateful but also… sad. “You’re going to try and—get back to work again, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Ali glances at his leg. “I… um. Sorry.” She wipes at her eyes. “I didn’t think we’d do this, here. But you’re… I really saw, today, what your life is like. Every day. What could happen. What does happen. And I… you want to get back into it.”

“Of course I do.” He doesn’t understand what’s happening. “Being a firefighter is—my dream, my life, it’s who I am.”

“And I would never want you to give up what makes you happy.” Ali clears her throat, sniffs, composes herself. “I can’t watch that, though. I can’t. I can’t worry—I can’t go through that, again.”

Buck blames the good drugs they’re giving him on why it’s taking so long to connect the dots. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“I don’t know,” Ali confesses. “I like you, Buck, a lot, but I don’t know if I like you enough to—for the—for my caring for you to outweigh that fear. I don’t know if—they say that if you love someone that whatever time you have with them, you want it, no matter what the—the risks, and I don’t know that’s what I feel for you.”

Buck knew, he always knew, that their situation was… nice. Pleasant. Fine. But he’s been in love before, and he knows what that feels like, and he isn’t in love with Ali. Maybe he could be. If other things weren’t… were different. But he’s not, and she isn’t with him, and now a ladder truck has blasted through and crushed the casual, calm little fantasy they built for themselves. This safe, easy relationship is gone.

“I’m sorry,” Ali says, and she sounds sincere, and he knows he should be hurt right now but he’s… not. Well, he is, but. Not nearly as much as he should be.

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I—I know you didn’t plan this.”

“I wasn’t sure—if you wanted to change careers, but—”

“No, I… this is what I want to do, with my life.”

Ali nods, pets his cheek, leans in and kisses him softly. “Do you want me to stay? Get your sister?”

“Knock knock.” It’s Chim and Hen, looking exhausted but grinning.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Ali smiles at him, and it’s warm. A _wish you all the best_ kind of smile.

Buck nods. He gets it. “Thank you, Ali.”

She skirts around the others, a little awkwardly, and slides out of his life just as easily and painlessly as she slid into it.

“…everything okay?” Hen asks.

“Yeah.” Surprisingly. “You two get off shift?”

“As if they’d make us finish it after that,” Chim says. “We’ve all been out in the lobby, taking shifts. Now that everyone knows you’re awake you’d better watch out, I think—”

“Buck!”

The softest goddamn voice in the world calls his name and Buck’s heart squeezes as Christopher hurries over fast as he can make it. “Hey, buddy!”

“Buck,” Christopher repeats and flops onto the bed, careful to avoid his leg, smiling at him.

“I’m sorry I can’t hug you, buddy.”

“That’s okay.” Christopher very, very carefully lays his head on Buck’s shoulder. “See? We can do this.”

Buck would put himself back under a ladder truck any day, hell, he’d stick both legs under, if that was what Christopher needed. “That’s perfect. Exactly what I needed.”

“He wouldn’t stop asking about you.”

Buck looks up and his throat goes dry.

Eddie’s in civilian clothes, and he somehow looks like he hasn’t slept in a week even though it can’t have been more than a few hours. His hair is usually only this messy post-sex when Buck’s been running his fingers through it, he has somehow acquired more stubble, and the bags under his eyes are heavy enough to qualify as checked luggage on an airplane.

“What can I say?” Buck musters a grin. “I’m a popular guy.”

Christopher giggles.

Hen shakes her head. “I’m going to get some damn rest.” She takes Buck’s hand and squeezes it. “We’re glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Hen.”

“Why don’t you go check on Maddie?” Hen asks Chim.

Chim frowns. “She’s fine, she was eating a Ho Ho from the vending machine—”

“I think you should go check on her,” Hen repeats, grabbing Chimney’s arm and all but dragging him out the door.

So that was weird.

Eddie walks around and pulls up a chair. Buck’s fingers feel empty. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks. You know the first person who hasn’t asked me if I’m okay?”

Eddie snorts. “That’s ‘cause I know the answer.”

Buck’s eyelids feel heavy. “You’re one to talk. You look like… like shit too.”

“Well, hey, at least that’s a special occasion. You look like shit all the time.”

Buck snorts. His eyes are closed. When did that happen?

“Is Buck sleepy?”

“Yeah, he just went through a lot, buddy, we’re gonna let him rest.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Buck can’t get his eyes open again but really, he’s fine.

“Mmm, sure you are.”

Fingers card through his hair, then pull away. Buck makes a noise before he can stop himself, his chest _aching_. He likes it when Eddie pets his hair. He likes when Eddie touches him.

“You okay? Anything hurting?”

“No, just…” Well, whatever he says, he can blame it on the painkillers. “Don’ stop, ‘kay?”

“Ah.” Eddie’s voice is odd, but the fingers are back, gently petting through his hair, so that’s all good, then.

 _I missed this,_ he tries to say. _I missed you._ But his body is floating again and he can’t feel anything and then it’s all gone.

* * *

Buck’s asleep in about two seconds flat. His chest rises and falls easily, deeply, no sign of pain. His face is slack. Relaxed.

He’s okay.

Well, except for the huge fucking cast his leg is in and all the tubes he’s hooked up to.

Christopher still has his head on Buck’s shoulder. He very carefully puts his hand over Buck’s chest. “I can feel his heart.”

“That’s good, means he’s healing.”

Christopher pats Buck gently on the chest. “Is he gonna be okay? He survived the ambulance so that means he’s okay now right?”

Shannon. Eddie’s heart cracks in two when he realizes what Christopher’s thinking about. “Hey. Buck is real strong, okay? The strongest guy I know. He’s going to be just fine. You’ll be able to hang out with him again in a few days.”

He doesn’t blame Christopher for looking a little disbelieving as he looks at Buck’s IV, his cast, the cuts on his face. “A ladder truck is a lot bigger than a car,” he says softly.

Eddie walks around and pulls Christopher into a hug. “Yeah, it is. And it was really scary. And it’s okay to be scared. I was scared, too. But Buck’s just sleeping. You need to sleep a lot so your body can heal. That’s all. I promise, it’s going to be okay.”

Eddie takes his promises to his son very seriously, so he makes them rarely. He doesn’t want to promise something he can’t hold to.

Christopher nods, eyes still on Buck. “Okay, Daddy.”

He kisses the top of his son’s head. If Buck was awake to hear this it would break the poor guy’s heart. “C’mon, let’s let Buck rest.”

He carries Christopher out—he’s not quite ready to stop hugging him yet—to where Karen and Hen and their kids, and Chimney and Carla and Maddie, are all talking.

Chimney, apparently, is trying to convince Maddie to go home and get some sleep. “You’ve been here for hours, he’s just going to sleep through the rest of the night. You’ll want to be rested when you see him tomorrow.”

Buck can’t be alone.

What if he wakes up? What if he’s in pain? What if he’s groggy and confused? What if—

Chim successfully herds Maddie off and Eddie tries to grab Carla, but she’s already moving. “Damn.”

“Everything okay?” Karen asks.

“Ah, yeah, I just.” He watches Carla’s retreating back. “I was hoping Carla could do me a favor and take Chris home. I want—I think someone should stay with Buck.”

Hen gets an odd look on her face but doesn’t say anything, just keeps cleaning up the empty coffee cups. Everyone’s gone through at least five.

“I can take him,” Karen says. “We’ll make a sleepover out of it. It’ll be fun.”

“You sure?” He doesn’t want Christopher too worried, or alone—ever since Shannon, he’s worried if he leaves Chris alone for too long the kid’ll start to get anxious.

“Of course.” Karen’s voice is firm. “Hey, Chris, you want to stay at our place tonight? We can make waffles in the morning!”

“Waffles!” Christopher, like most kids, is easily won over with food.

 _Thank you,_ he mouths at Karen as she herds the kids away.

Buck’s still asleep when he gets back. Probably will be for the rest of the night.

Eddie carefully takes his hand. Interlaces their fingers. Squeezes. Even if Buck’s not awake, someone’s going to be here with him. He won’t be alone.

“Eddie.”

Someone’s gently shaking his shoulder. He blinks, groggy. Fuck, his back aches. There’s something in his hand, and he squeezes automatically. A hand. Buck’s hand.

_Buck._

He sits bolt upright, but Buck’s still asleep, his hand caught up firmly in Eddie’s. He looks up, towards the source of the voice.

Maddie’s standing there, two cups of coffee in hand. She looks exhausted. “Hey.”

“I thought Chim made you go home, get some sleep.”

“He did.” Maddie holds out one of the coffees. “It’s eight a.m.”

Oh, shit.

Eddie carefully sets Buck’s hand down on the bed and stands up, accepting the coffee. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, for staying.”

Eddie nods, take a sip, winces. Hospital coffee never gets any better.

“You know, Ali broke up with him.”

He glances over at Maddie, his heart picking up. “What?”

She nods, bitterness swiping briefly across her face. “Last night.”

…Eddie would never hurt a woman but seriously? While Buck was in pain? Scared? When he needed comfort more than anything? Eddie would never leave Buck hanging like that, how could you possibly do that to someone you—

He clears his throat. “I had a feeling she wasn’t… what he needed.”

“I’d never met her before.” Maddie pauses. “I haven’t met… any of Buck’s significant others. That I know of.”

Eddie feels like he’s missed a step on a staircase and managed to make the next step, but is still a bit off-balance. “Ah. Yeah I mean…”

“But he’s single now,” Maddie repeats. Like that has meaning.

“Yeah.” Oh, shit, she’s probably worried about Buck living alone. “Don’t worry, we’ll all look after him, Maddie. He’s not going to be alone for this.”

Maddie glances over at him, looks oddly like she wants to let out a heavy sigh, and then sips her coffee again. “I’m glad. He’s always deserved a family.”

Eddie’s got a shift, so he gives her a hug that’s semi-awkward, but probably not as awkward as it should be, and heads out.

All day, he can feel Buck’s hand in his.

* * *

It’s not that Buck doesn’t appreciate the doctor’s advice.

It’s just that physical therapy sucks, crutches suck, and his leg itching where he can’t reach it in the cast _really fucking sucks._

Eddie is not helping, whatever Maddie says.

Every time Buck so much as _looks_ at a pencil, Eddie’s spritzing him with water from a squirt bottle, like Buck’s a disobedient puppy. And, okay, so maybe Buck stuck a dozen or so pens down his cast and the doctor got mad at him, but he itches! It’s annoying! Eddie doesn’t have to be spritzing him with water every time!

“What were you, a sadist in a past life?” he grouses as Eddie moves a tempting pen out of his reach. “You couldn’t at least try positive affirmation? Offer me a cookie?”

“You can’t eat cookies right now,” Eddie replies.

Christopher’s at school, so Buck gets the deep satisfaction of being able to flip Eddie off.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Jesus, if you can get through an entire PT session without complaining, I’ll give you a goddamn handjob.”

Buck’s entire body lights up like he stuck his finger into an electrical socket. They haven’t… well. Shannon is no longer an issue, even though the way it happened was awful, and Ali broke up with him, so… technically there’s nothing really stopping them from resuming the ‘benefits’ in their relationship. But Eddie hasn’t brought it up and since he was the one to end it, Buck thinks he should probably be the one to initiate starting it up again. If he even wants to. Buck’s hasn’t been sure that Eddie would, he’s got enough on his plate, but—now…

Dammit, there’s one big snag in all this. “The doctor said no sexual activity.”

Eddie folds his arms and leans back against the wall. “Are you talking yourself out of a handjob?”

“You think I _want_ to talk myself out of this!?” He’s practically vibrating, he wants to touch Eddie so fucking badly.

Eddie chuckles, like Buck’s adorable. “How about this.”

Buck’s currently sitting, and Eddie leans down, braces his hands on the arm of the chair, and kisses him, nice and slow. Buck’s breath halts in his chest, and he melts so fast he feels like his body liquifies. Eddie kisses just like he remembers, steady and sure, his mouth coaxing Buck’s open, his tongue darting inside playfully before retreating.

“That better than a cookie?” Eddie asks, his voice low.

Goddamn. “Way better.”

Turns out, physical therapy is far easier to get through when there’s a nice, long make out session at the end of it. Not every time, of course. Bobby and Chim are there too, both of them experienced in this whole bullshit process, and Maddie likes to be there when she can. Eddie’s got a job and he’s got a son, and everyone takes turns.

But when he _is_ there…

Eddie’s very careful to never press or grab too hard, to keep Buck’s leg carefully out of the way, but God, he kisses Buck like he’s practicing for a career in it. His hands slide up, slow and gentle, under Buck’s shirt, pressing against his back or his stomach, the pads of Eddie’s fingers stroking in time with his tongue. He never gets too fast, obviously trying not to start something they can’t finish (damn medical professionals), sucking on Buck’s tongue, exploring Buck’s mouth until he could probably draw a goddamn map of it. He pulls back every so often, his eyes dark and searching, like he’s got to get visual confirmation that Buck’s enjoying this—and holy shit, Buck _really_ is. He’s got stubble burn half the time afterwards. And Eddie keeps doing this—this annoying-hot thing where he’ll pull back and make Buck chase him, keeping his mouth _just_ out of reach, or only allowing a peck before he pulls away again, waiting until Buck’s whining for it before he worries Buck’s bottom lip between his teeth and kisses him properly again.

Buck could die with Eddie’s mouth sealed over his and he wouldn’t give a damn.

At this point, it’s basically a Pavlovian response: Eddie is here, Eddie gives kisses. Buck’s blood thrums with anticipation whenever Eddie shows up, and even though it’s not like the physical therapy suddenly gets miraculously easy, it’s easier to have a better attitude about it when he has Eddie kissing and praising him at the end.

In fact, he goes ahead and at his latest physical asks for some… additional tests. He and Ali always used condoms but better safe than sorry, right?

Every time Eddie kisses him, Buck just wants him more. Kissing Eddie’s the longest, steamiest buildup to sex he’s ever had, and it’s habit at this point.

Which is why he, uh.

That’s why they nearly kiss in front of everyone at Eddie’s graduation ceremony.

“I don’t even know why I’m taking you,” Maddie tells him. “You should be off your feet, healing.”

“Well, this is more important.” He’s not going to miss Eddie’s ceremony if he has to drag himself there.

He and Maddie… it… it spirals from there. He’s feeling raw, fragile, and that’s why when—that’s the reason he almost—when he sees Eddie’s _smile_ , his whole face lit up, and he’s just, he’s _glowing_ , and Buck makes his way over amid all the other congratulators and he goes in for—

A kiss. He goes in for a kiss.

Eddie reaches for him, a knowing little smirk on his face, that familiar light in his eyes—and then he kind of freezes for a second and oh _fuck_ , Buck nearly—they nearly—he dodges to the side, and Eddie does some weird dorky robot thing that makes Buck burst out laughing because what _even,_ and they hug tightly.

“I’m glad you came,” Eddie tells him, and Buck’s sure he tells that to everyone, but he tucks his bright-red burning face into Eddie’s shoulder anyway.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” he assures him.

He glances up, and sees Maddie looking at him over the cut cake, the same expression on her face as when she caught him sneaking back from a party when he was fourteen and oh…

Oh, he is in so, so deep.

And in _so_ much trouble.

* * *

It’s about three months before the doctor clears Buck for ‘light sexual activity’ and even then, Eddie’s not sure.

“Come _on,_ ” Buck whines, pawing at him. They’ve been kissing for what feels like hours and they’re both hard, occasionally accidentally-on-purpose grinding against each other as he double checks to make sure he still has every inch of Buck’s throat memorized with his mouth.

Buck’s cast is off and he’s doing really well on his training, but Eddie doesn’t want to risk anything. Sometimes, when he’s half asleep in bed, he can hear Buck’s screams in his ears. He can taste blood in his mouth when there is no blood there. He can see the tears streaming down Buck’s face.

He never, ever wants to see Buck in that much pain, ever again. No matter how tempting it is, no matter how much he burns with wanting Buck, around him, under him, no matter how much he just wants to sink his hands, his cock, his mouth into Buck, he isn’t going to do it, not if it risks Buck’s health.

“No.” Eddie pushes Buck’s hands away.

Buck pouts. “Eddie _please?_ ”

Dammit. He is a major sucker for Buck pleading, and Buck’s figured it out. “I’m not fucking you. You need to let your leg rest, you can’t overexert it.” Especially with what Buck’s been putting it through every day to get back into fighting shape as fast as possible. Sometimes, Eddie worries Buck’s pushing himself too far, too fast. That Buck’s thinking only of himself as a firefighter _,_ and not as a person.

“I want you,” Buck whispers, soft and small, and shit. That—fuck. Eddie can’t resist that. “I want your cock, Eddie, please…”

Hmm. They’re on the bed in Buck’s apartment, and they have the time. If Buck stays lying down…

Eddie pushes himself back and starts undoing his pants. “Take off your shirt, put that pillow under your knee, and another one under your head.”

“I’m sure this is going somewhere sexy,” Buck says, doing as he’s told, “but where, exactly?”

Buck likes it when Eddie’s in control. When Eddie pins him down, or orders him around, or does what he likes with Buck’s body. “If you’re okay with it, I can… straddle you.”

“What, you ride me?”

“Not the usual way.” Eddie gets his pants off and crawls back up Buck’s chest, and he sees Buck’s face light up with understanding. Eddie can feel his face heating up. “You said you wanted my cock.”

“Oh you want to _sit_ on me.” Buck sounds like a puppy given a new chew toy. “Fuck yes.”

“Your enthusiasm kind of concerns me. Have you done this before?”

“With women!” Buck says cheerfully, supremely unconcerned with the possible health complications of a cock shoved down his throat.

Eddie very carefully braces one hand on the wall and gets a handful of Buck’s hair with the other. “Tap my leg if you need me to stop, okay?”

Buck gives him a look that says stopping is the _last_ thing he’s going to want to do, and then Eddie’s very, very carefully guiding himself into Buck’s mouth.

He keeps it shallow, but he does all of the work like this—which is why he decided on it—so it’s his job to thrust into Buck’s mouth. Buck just keeps his hands on Eddie’s thighs and his mouth open, his throat loose and relaxed.

He’s so fucking pretty like this, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his kiss-swollen mouth all pink and slick, his cheeks flushed. He looks _made_ for this, for letting Eddie do this to him. Eddie pets through his hair. “Good. Very good.”

For the first time since he got injured, Buck looks like he’s no longer thinking, no longer restless, brain going a mile a minute, obsessed with getting better, getting into fighting shape. Eddie keeps his thrusts nice and shallow, even as his legs start to burn a little. It feels—it feels good, okay? He hasn’t had sex since the last time with Buck, months ago on the floor (and God, he’s spent far more time dreaming about that than he probably should have, reliving the way Buck had come alive when Eddie kissed him, the hot clench of Buck around him, the way he’d _looked_ ) and he’s really not going to last as long as usual.

He cautiously tests going a little deeper and Buck moans around his cock, the vibrations going right through him, and Eddie shudders, keeps up that slow-but-deeper pace. Buck looks fucking content like this, like a cat with cream, and Eddie keeps murmuring praise as he holds Buck’s head in place, since that makes Buck shudder. “Taking me so well, look at you, being so good for me, always so good for me…”

Buck _is_ always so good for Eddie, always eager to please, so good, his good boy—

He pulls up and out, keeping only the tip of himself inside as he spills over—he doesn’t want Buck to fucking choke—and Buck makes a noise like he’s starving.

Shit, there is no way he’s going to be able to go back to just kissing after this.

Buck turns big, desperate eyes up to him, his face flushed and his mouth an absolute mess, and Eddie scoots down, lays his hand across Buck’s chest to keep him still, takes Buck’s leaking cock into his hand. Buck’s eyes roll back into his head and it only takes about five strokes before he’s coming, trembling all over, a high whine escaping him.

“Good?” Eddie asks, reaching for the tissues.

“Definitely,” Buck pants, already trying to grab Eddie and drag him up for more kissing because Buck is absolutely insatiable. “But I still want you to fuck me.”

“When your doctor says you’re cleared,” Eddie repeats, but he lets Buck pull him in for more kissing.

He should’ve known Buck would make him eat those words.

* * *

Buck slaps the paper down triumphantly on the table. “Ha!”

Eddie, who is finishing up a sandwich, looks down at the paper, and then back up at Buck, unimpressed. “What? It’s a bunch of scribbles.”

“It’s a signed note, from my doctor.” Buck taps the paper. “It says you can fuck me.”

Eddie chokes on his sandwich and spends the next ten seconds spluttering and coughing. Buck waits, politely, until Eddie has recovered. “So? Can you fuck me now?”

“I’m having lunch.”

“Then finish your lunch.” They’re hanging at Eddie’s house, they have time, it’s great. They can get a nice good fuck in before Eddie goes to pick Christopher up from school and Buck has his sibling night with Maddie.

Eddie keeps a wary eye on him as he finishes up his sandwich. “I feel like Tippi Hedren in _The Birds_.”

“Very funny.”

Eddie takes his plates over to the sink and washes them while Buck tries not to beg him to hurry up. He takes his sweet time with it, too, drying them and putting them away when Buck _knows_ there’s a perfectly good dishwasher just sitting there.

At last he turns around, bracing his hands on the counter. “Your doctor really said you’re okay.”

“I’m taking my test in a few days, Eddie, I’m pretty sure I’m okay to have sex.”

Eddie’s fingers tap on the counter. Then… “Come here.”

Buck goes, shaking with anticipation. Eddie’s gaze moves up and down his body, like he’s cataloguing Buck’s physical state for himself. He wraps his hand around Buck’s neck, his thumb resting right in the hollow of Buck’s throat. Buck’s breath hitches.

Eddie draws him in, presses Buck up against him, and slides his tongue right in between Buck’s parted lips. Like he’s claiming him. No, like he already owns him and is just casually reminding Buck of the fact.

Buck grabs onto Eddie’s arms and holds on tight as Eddie kisses him. Finally, they’re doing this. He feels like he’s been in one long foreplay session for three months.

Eddie pulls back, his hands dropping to Buck’s hips. “Turn around.”

Oh. Oh, that’s how they’re doing it.

Buck does as he’s told, and then follows the guiding hand on his back, bending over, bracing his hands on the kitchen island. Eddie’s hand pushes slowly up under his shirt, up Buck’s spine, like he’s counting the knobs in it.

“You really do want this so badly.” Eddie sounds like he’s talking to himself more than to Buck.

“What gave it away?” Buck asks, pressing his ass back into Eddie’s hips. Fuck, yes, Eddie’s hard, and Buck’s mouth waters. He’s finally going to have that inside him, and it only took five months and a goddamn doctor’s note.

Eddie chuckles, reaching around to undo Buck’s pants. Buck’s skin feels like it’s going to give off sparks wherever Eddie touches it, he’s so fucking keyed up in anticipation. He’s wanted this for so long, he was starting to worry that Eddie didn’t really want it anymore, that Eddie didn’t want _him_ anymore—

“You’re lucky I can keep up with you,” Eddie points out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you—are you complaining that I want to have sex with you?” Buck reaches around, grabs Eddie by the back of the head, and cranes his neck, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t realize this was such a chore for you.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

Buck has no fucking clue where Eddie got lube from and wait actually since they’re currently in the kitchen, he probably shouldn’t ask. He just relaxes into Eddie’s touch, lets himself get worked open, nice and slow. Eddie’s taking his time, and Buck dares to let himself think that Eddie’s savoring this, that he’s enjoying re-learning the feel of this just as much as Buck is.

“You like me that way,” he groans, tightening his grip on the counter as Eddie twists his fingers and his knees buckle. Fuck, that’s good. Why did they ever stop this? Christ, he feels like he’s made up of nothing but bare stripped wires, sparking and going off, pumped full of a dangerous, dancing current.

“Yeah,” Eddie admits, his teeth fitting around the shell of Buck’s ear. “Yeah, I do.”

He pulls his fingers out and Buck whines, keenly aware of the loss, but only for a second before Eddie’s pushing inside him. “ _Fuck_ yes,” he blurts out, unable to stop himself.

Eddie has to pause, his hands on Buck’s hips, so that he can laugh. “Oh my God you fucking brat.”

“You made me wait months, Eddie, come on. Have a little sympathy.”

“Oh yeah, because this whole time I just had a parade of people I was fucking, I was getting tons of sex and you weren’t this entire time, you poor baby.”

Buck clenches around him and shoves his hips back, making Eddie groan and jerk inside him. Ha. Take that, Eddie. Not so smug now.

Eddie growls, and oh man, Buck is so in for it now. Sure enough, Eddie’s next thrust unerringly finds his prostate and Buck moans, his head falling down between his shoulders. Jesus Christ, yes.

“If that’s what you want…” Eddie’s voice is a soft purr as he wraps his arm around Buck’s waist, his mouth drawing a sinful line up Buck’s neck. “…then I’ll give it to you.”

His hips snap forward again and Buck moans shamelessly. Eddie’s out to prove a point, now, and far be it from Buck to stand in his way. He’s getting fucked good and deep, within an inch of his life, and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to move after this.

Worth it.

Eddie doesn’t play around, finds his prostate every time, and how he even remembered after about nine months, Buck doesn’t even know, but he’s not complaining. It’s the best goddamn sex he’s had in that entire time, and he kind of wants to slap his past self for thinking he could find better anywhere else because holy shit. He can’t even keep track of the words and sounds flying out of his mouth, but whatever they are, Eddie sure seems to like them, because he’s biting hard at Buck’s shoulders and neck and his arm is a rod of goddamn iron around Buck’s waist, and he’s burying himself into Buck like he wants to fucking set up residence, take out a lease, build a house.

“Stroke yourself,” Eddie whispers, sounding wrecked. “Touch yourself, c’mon, I want to see it.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Buck does as he’s told, moving his hand fast, keeping his fist tight, and Eddie groans like he’s the one who’s getting his cock stroked. Buck warms all over at that. He likes that he can make Eddie feel like this, that he can show off for Eddie, that Eddie still for some goddamn reason finds him sexy even though he’s fully aware of what a dorky disaster Buck really is.

“Good boy.” Eddie’s voice is right in his ear, his stomach and chest plastered to Buck’s back as he pistons his hips into him, and Buck hasn’t been stretched like this, felt full like this, in ages and he doesn’t stop touching himself and he’s kind of on a hair trigger after so long and it feels— _fuck._

“There’s a joke in here about the kitchen backsplash,” he says weakly, surveying the mess he just made of the kitchen island.

Eddie laughs, even as he continues to fuck him. “Don’t you fucking—oh my God,” he blurts out, coming, and Buck is never, ever going to let him live down the fact that he came while complaining about one of Buck’s bad jokes.

Eddie’s forehead comes to rest between Buck’s shoulder blades, and Buck can feel Eddie inhaling deeply. Like he’s trying to memorize Buck’s smell.

That’s—that’s just Buck’s imagination. Eddie just fucked him into next week, he’s tired, he’s just breathing heavy. Buck’s the one with—the one who—doesn’t matter. He’s reading too much into things.

He arches up, lets Eddie’s cock slide out of him, and turns around, grinning. “And, oh look, I didn’t die.”

Eddie doesn’t look impressed. “Guess I didn’t fuck you hard enough.”

“That’ll be a 911 call for the books.”

“Look, I’m just saying, out of the two of us? Which one had a girlfriend and was having sex? You didn’t see me complaining.”

“Oh, forgive me.” Buck reaches for the paper towels to clean up. “I’ll never talk about how much I want your cock again.”

“No, no, I’m just saying—what I’m hearing is that the sex you were having was _so mediocre…_ ”

“I’ve fed your ego too much. I regret everything.”

Eddie grins at him, raises his eyebrows, all cockiness and charm and pleased as punch, and Buck’s heart squeezes and aches. “If you think that was good, wait until you pass your test. Then I’ll really reward you.”

“Oh?” Buck steps forward, shamelessly drapes his arms over Eddie’s shoulders. “Then I guess I’d better pass my test, then.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but then he kisses him so, Buck’s calling it a win.

* * *

“So,” Maddie says, and Buck isn’t completely oblivious—they’re in the car heading out to celebrate him passing his test, he’s trapped and can’t go anywhere unless he’s going to jump out of a moving vehicle, which would probably defeat the purpose of the last five months of recovery, and her tone is way too knowing and innocent—he knows she’s about to start something that he probably isn’t going to want to talk about. Maybe another plea for him to take more time off, to make extra sure he’s really fine before going back to work. What he doesn’t expect her to add is—

“How’s Eddie?”

Buck stills, feeling thrown. “Uh…he’s fine? I don’t—”

“At least when I date someone, I date them.” She keeps her eyes on the road, but there’s a smile lingering around her mouth that means she’s far too pleased with herself. “That was your line, right?”

“You’re really never gonna let me forget that one, are you?” Buck asks. 

“Well, you did set yourself up so perfectly…”

Buck laughs and shakes his head. “Come on then, let me have it.”

“Huh…his ex-wife showed up around Halloween, didn’t she? Conveniently around the time you stopped sleeping with whoever was after Abby? Interesting how that timing works out,” she says. “Also interesting how he’s barely left your side for five months and how for at least part of that time you’ve seemed happier than you were when you were dating Ali, so…”

“We’re friends, Maddie. Best friends.”

“Friends who were having sex.” Buck isn’t sure what his face does, but Maddie sucks in a breath. “Friends who _are_ having sex? _Evan!_ Seriously?”

“The doctor said it was fine,” he says, and Maddie reaches over and smacks his arm.

“That’s not what I’m judging and you know it. Just ask him out! It’s obvious you want to, you’re healthy and recovered—why settle for some wishy-washy half-measure?”

Buck’s face flames. Obvious? It’s _obvious?_ Is that what Eddie thinks?

“I don’t—it’s not—” Buck bites his cheek. “He’s my best friend. I’m not going to fuck that up.”

“So casual sex isn’t going to do that, but asking him out on a date where for once you both know it’s a date would?” Maddie glances over for a second and sighs. “At least when Chimney and I were in denial we weren’t actively sleeping together.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Really? Explain how it isn’t.”

“Because he doesn’t want—” Fuck. Buck lowers his voice. “He doesn’t want me like that, okay?”

“And you know that because he said so? Or are you just making assumptions?” Maddie asks. When Buck is quiet, she hums. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

They pull up against a curb and Maddie turns off the car. Buck looks out the window and blinks. Bobby and Athena’s? Why are they at—?

“Think about it, will you? That’s all I’m saying,” Maddie says as she reaches over and grabs her purse. “Don’t break your own heart just because it’s easier than risking letting him do it.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to expect a response because Buck doesn’t have one. He climbs out of the car slowly, hissing faintly and catching himself on the roof when his leg throbs suddenly—he’s noticed a dull ache on and off for days, even at his last doctor’s appointment, but he hadn’t said anything then, didn’t mention it to Eddie, didn’t want to make a fuss before his test when it’s probably nothing more than a strained muscle.

A few feet away, Maddie pauses and looks back at him. “You okay?”

Buck pushes off the car and follows after her. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

He’s great.

* * *

Two days after Eddie fucked him, Buck vomits up blood.

One minute, Eddie’s hugging him, and Buck’s hugging him back like there’s no place in the world he’d rather be, and then he’s bouncing around the party like a big happy dog let loose in the park, and the next minute—the next minute he’s coughing and blood’s coming up.

He said he was fine, he said, but Eddie should’ve _known_ better, he should never have taken the risk, he should have said something, he should have made Buck wait to take his test, he should have said _I’ll fuck you after you pass_ , how the fuck could he have messed up so badly?

He sits in the waiting room with the others, his knee bouncing up and down, as they all wait to find out if Buck even made it out alive.

“Lucky,” the doctors say. “Lucky you were at a party full of EMTs.” “Lucky you were at a party full of first responders.” “He might not have made it otherwise.”

He has to get up and go to the bathroom, splash water on his face. Five months ago his best friend nearly died in front of him and he had to watch him scream and he couldn’t do anything and now tonight that same friend couldn’t even scream, there was blood in his throat and his mouth, choking him, he couldn’t even scream this time, he couldn’t—

The bathroom door is opened and Chim pokes his head in. “Eddie? Carla’s here, she said you called her?”

Ah, shit, right, yes. “Coming.”

He pats his face dry and puts on a neutral expression as he walks out. Carla’s waiting for him. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” She hugs him. “I can take Chris home.” She sighs. “Déjà vu, isn’t it?”

Eddie nods, swallows, chokes on it. “I, uh. Maddie’s really… so I’m just staying in case…”

“In case they try to kill each other and Chim needs help holding her back, I get it.” Carla nods, then frowns. “Eddie.” She puts her hand on his arm. “You look like you might fall over.”

“Sorry. I just. Sorry.”

“Hey, I get it, he’s your best friend—”

“No, um, it’s that I think I—fuck.” Eddie scrubs a hand over his mouth.

Nobody knows. They’ve told no one. He doesn’t know if he should even say anything. But he can’t breathe.

“I. Uh. Buck’s been pushing himself too hard. Physically. And we don’t—they haven’t said any details but it wasn’t just the test today that did it. It’s got to be—it could’ve happened any time, and I—fuck, I fucked up.”

“Did you make him run a marathon?” Carla says dryly.

“No, I just fucked him in my kitchen,” Eddie blurts out.

Carla, to her credit, does not react other than to blink. “Eddie, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

That—yup, that’s probably it. “Okay.”

“I’m going to help you sit down.”

“Okay.”

Once he’s seated, Carla takes his hand. “Now, I’m going to be a very good friend right now and not ask the many questions that I want to ask, because you’ve had a rough night and this isn’t the time. Eddie. You’re a medic. You know that’s not how it works.”

“I should’ve made him take it easier. He was pushing himself too hard.” Every breath feels too shallow, too tight. “What if it had happened then, huh? What if I’d—and he’d died, the doctors said he was lucky we had so many professionals at the party, what if he’d—”

“Don’t look now,” Carla points out, “but you’re a professional.”

He’d laugh if he could get a breath in.

“Eddie. Nothing happened. And nothing that the two of you did, as athletic as I’m sure it was, contributed to this.” She squeezes his hand. “There is nobody who cares about that man more than you do, besides his sister. And I’m not saying that because of the wildly intriguing information you just gave me, I’m saying it because I’ve watched you two. You spend just about every waking moment together. I’ve seen how you look at him. Buck could never be safer than when he was with you.”

They’re in the part of the hallway that holds the restrooms, around the corner from the waiting room, so nobody can see him as he covers his eyes with his hand, as his shoulders shake.

Carla rubs his back and thoughtfully says nothing.

At last he straightens up, and she fishes out some tissues from her purse. “I’m going to take Christopher home. You’re going to have some water. And then you’re going to see Buck once he wakes up, because you’re his best friend, and he needs you, and it’s not going to serve either of you to sit around here feeling sorry for yourself. Understand?”

Eddie snorts. “Yes, ma’am.”

Carla squeezes his arm. “Good.” She stands up, then pauses. “So what exactly is…?”

“It’s just casual, Carla. He’s my best friend, we fuck sometimes, easier than Tinder.”

Carla raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

Eddie pulls himself together, washes his face (again), and straightens his clothes. He’s going to go see Buck when he wakes up, and he’s going to be there, and help Buck however Buck needs helping, and he’s going to stop feeling sorry for himself.

…or at least manage two out of three.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know she's already my co-writer but special blessings upon extasiswings who took the rough edges of this chapter I dumped on her and actually made it good.

“I quit.”

It’s not an entirely conscious choice. Or, it is, but—

Bobby says _in a few weeks_ and _might clear you for light duty_ and Buck stops breathing, thrown abruptly into a vision of the future that sets his skin crawling—alone behind a desk writing reports or conducting inspections, a cog in the machine of city bureaucracy, cut off from the 118, his friends, hell, his _family_ , all of them moving on, forgetting him, leaving him alone, alone alone—

Five months. Five _months_. Of surgeries, of physical therapy, of pain and drugs and no small amount of humiliation at needing help with even the most minor things he’d never had to think of before. But he made it through. Because he was going to be a firefighter.

Because he _is_ a firefighter.

_Light duty._

_I quit._

The words are ash on his tongue, but they’re the only words he can say. The only choice he can make, to take it all away from himself before someone else can rip it out from under him.

“Buck—”

“I’m going back to my room,” Buck says, pushing past Bobby and starting back down the hall. “Maybe you’re right. I should be _resting_. Wouldn’t want to push myself.”

Nothing left to push for.

“Home sweet home,” Eddie says later, dropping Buck outside the loft after he’s finally discharged. Buck’s pretty sure Maddie will be upset he didn’t call her for a ride, but she’s still upset with him as it is for not saying anything about his leg hurting, and Eddie, well—

Buck doesn’t know how Eddie feels about everything. Because he hasn’t said a word.

Somehow the silence is worse than the fighting Buck’s doing with Maddie.

“Thanks. Do you, um—you wanna come in?”

 _Please come in_ , Buck thinks. _Come inside and kiss me and let me pretend—_

Pretend everything is okay.

For a moment it looks like Eddie really is considering it—he glances between the door and his truck parked on the street, wets his lips—

“I shouldn’t,” Eddie says finally. “Another time?”

Buck swallows back the disappointment.

“Of course. Yeah. Whenever.”

_I’ve got nothing but time now._

“I’m—” Eddie looks away and clears his throat before he reaches out and squeezes Buck’s shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

 _I’m not._ Buck forces a smile. “Getting there anyway.”

And then, Eddie is gone, and Buck—

Buck goes to bed.

* * *

Buck quit his job.

Buck quit his job and didn’t say a word—Eddie finds out from Bobby and Buck doesn’t answer the phone when he calls and Hen says that according to Maddie, Buck isn’t getting out of bed.

And Eddie gets it. On some level. He’s been there, he knows what it’s like to have a piece of your identity wrapped up in a job. If he hadn’t had Christopher after he was discharged from the army—sent home with a medal he didn’t want, didn’t feel like he deserved, ripped away from routine, from his unit, struggling to readjust to being home after four years in a desert on the other side of the world—he doesn’t know what he would have done. Even with Christopher, it still took time and a near-impossible amount of effort to pull himself out of the dark and get up every day.

Sometimes, it’s still hard.

So…Eddie gets it. But he was also there in the hospital when Buck’s doctors were giving him instructions, telling him how important it was to move to limit the risk of further clots, even with the blood thinners. And if Buck’s not getting up—

Maybe Eddie’s stopped blaming himself, at least entirely, for Buck nearly killing himself, but he’s sure as hell not going to sit idly by and let Buck do it deliberately through neglect.

Besides. Carla left for her vacation after Buck was discharged from the hospital.

Funny how things work out.

Eddie still has a key to Buck’s loft from when he was helping Buck with physical therapy, and since Buck isn’t answering his calls, he has no qualms about using it. Christopher is happy as a clam at the idea of spending the day with Buck, and Eddie hopes that infectious optimism will do at least a little to knock Buck out of his depressive spiral. But first…

“Get up,” Eddie says, ripping the blankets off of Buck. Buck groans at the light hitting his face.

“Why, man? Come on.” The second Buck finds the edge of the comforter and sheets, he pulls them back over his face, burrowing into the mattress like he’s going into hibernation. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Because it’s morning,” Eddie replies, crossing around to the other side of the bed and pulling them off again. “And you have things to do.”

Buck glares, his jaw ticking. It’s rare that Buck gets actually mad at him, but this is a fight Eddie is more than willing to have.

“No, I really don’t.” Buck moves to lie back down again.

Well. Good thing Eddie’s just as stubborn then, isn’t it?

“You’re going to get out of this house,” Eddie orders. “You’re going to take a walk around the block, and you’re going to get some fresh air.”

They have another minor standoff over the bedding before Buck finally shoves it away and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“You know, if you’re going to walk in here and start ordering me around, you could at least have the decency to make it the fun kind,” he grumbles. “Besides, what’s the point?”

 _The point is, you have people who care about you and I’m not going to let you kill yourself._ But Eddie doesn’t say that.

“The point is, your life isn’t over just because you’re not a firefighter.”

Buck scoffs. “Says the firefighter.”

“You almost died,” Eddie points out, and it cracks something in him to say it out loud, tastes bitter and poisonous on his tongue—he’s been avoiding actually discussing it with Buck for a reason, because the image of Buck spitting up dark red blood is burned into the back of his eyelids, and it’s too much to think about, too much to feel, just too damn much.

“You almost died,” he repeats. “That blood clot could have killed you all because you were pushing yourself so hard to go back to work. And I helped you do that, even though part of me knew better. So, since you’re still alive, since you have your whole life ahead of you—stop feeling sorry for yourself and take the damn win.”

Buck’s eyes flash before he turns on his heel and stalks off toward the living room, and Eddie knows that normally that would be a precursor to them really getting into it, but—

“Hey Buck!”

—that’s what secret weapons are for.

Eddie tries not to smirk as Buck stops in his tracks, as he stutters while fumbling to readjust his expectations.

“Uh…hey, buddy! What—what are you doing here?”

“He’s hanging out with his Buck today,” Eddie says as he lifts Christopher up into a hug before setting him back on the couch. He looks back at Buck. “Because I have to go to work. So…take him out, have some fun—maybe you’ll learn something.”

 _He saved me_ , is what Eddie wants to say. _He saved me. Let him save you._ But that would be a much longer conversation, straying into places that Eddie doesn’t like to touch. So instead, he just adds—

“He never feels sorry for himself.”

_So neither should you._

* * *

Buck never could have predicted how the day would go. Not in a million years, not in his worst nightmares, his darkest moments.

Eddie trusted him. Eddie _trusted_ him with Christopher, with the most precious thing in his life, and Buck—

He’s felt sick for hours, but never more than when he sees Eddie again, stands in front of him, and has to look the man—has to look his—has to look Eddie in the eye and tell him that his son—

Buck tries to get the words out, but how do you even begin to tell someone something like this when you don’t even want to accept it yourself?

But then, Eddie’s face shifts, and he pushes past Buck, and Buck turns…

Christopher.

He can’t even feel himself collapse (although Bobby gives him a real earful later about letting himself bleed out while on blood thinners). Christopher’s okay. Christopher’s alive.

They spend the night at the hospital, both of them, to make sure Buck didn’t fuck himself up even more and to just keep an eye on Christopher, and Buck is so fucking glad that the place is so overloaded that they stick him and Christopher in the same small room.

Christopher drops right off the sleep almost immediately, exhausted, and Buck just… watches him. Eddie’s still on duty, technically, so he has to go, and Buck doesn’t even really get a chance to do much more than briefly explain what happened, how it happened.

So he just watches Chris. He’s not letting him out of his sight again.

At some point, he passes out, or at least he must, because when he wakes up briefly, he’s being moved. “Chris…”

“Shh.” It’s Bobby. “Eddie’s got him, it’s okay, Buck.”

His next impression is a car. Moving. His head is pressed to the window. “Shhh.” Maddie this time. Her hand strokes his arm. “It’s okay.”

He’s horizontal, and then sunlight is streaming through the curtains and he’s waking up in his bed.

Fuck.

Buck buries his face further into his pillows. Fuck. Fuck. He has never in his life felt terror, despair, self-loathing of that degree. It hits him like a truck, all the numbness and exhaustion from the day before gone, and he shakes and shakes in bed, clutching his pillows with all of his might.

He knows, he knows he loves Christopher, of course he knows that. But it hasn’t really hit him until now how much, and in what way, and how he wants…

He nearly lost the kid he loves like his son.

God, this is bad, this is so bad. He didn’t have to just be satisfied with being Eddie’s best friend, he couldn’t be okay with being let into their lives like this, oh no, he has to want more, he has to be greedy and selfish…

He stays in bed. Not like the week before when there just didn’t seem to be any reason to get up, but because he’s genuinely exhausted, every single muscle in his body aching after swimming and fighting and carrying people, both Christopher and the grown adults he pulled onto that fire truck, after dragging himself over half of LA searching for Christopher after he was washed away—

Buck’s not sure he’s ever been so tired. So. He sleeps. For that day and then a second, and when he finally gets up on the morning of the third—

His doorbell rings.

It’s probably Maddie, and Buck loves her, but if he has to deal with her sympathy, with anyone’s sympathy, he might actually lose it. “Coming!”

It’s not Maddie.

It’s Eddie. With Christopher.

“Okay.” Eddie lays stuff out on the table as Christopher flops right onto the couch like he belongs there. “We’ve got a morning snack, a midday snack, two coloring books, some Legos—between us, he’s never built anything that looks like anything, he just likes sticking stuff together. There’s twenty bucks for pizza—and if I were you, I’d eat a couple extra slices, because you look like you’re wasting away to nothing—”

Buck feels like he’s dropped into the Twilight Zone. Like he skipped five chapters of a book and lost the plot so completely he doesn’t know what to do or say or anything else, it’s just…surreal.

“Eddie.”

“I will say, you being laid up is really working out for me.”

Eddie can’t possibly—he’s leaving Chris with him? Has Eddie lost his goddamn mind? Buck wouldn’t trust himself to look after a cat right now and Eddie’s just—

“You want me to look after Christopher?” Buck chokes out. “After everything that happened—”

“A natural disaster happened, Buck.”

“I _lost_ him, Eddie.”

Eddie glances over towards Christopher, who’s already grabbing the video game controls, and then reaches up, cards his fingers through Buck’s hair. It’s the first time Eddie’s touched him, _really_ touched him since the party, and Buck can’t help it—something tight in his chest loosens and he shivers, relaxes, his eyes sliding closed. Eddie only touches him like this when things are really bad, or when they’ve just finished fucking, and so now it makes him feel safe.

“That’s not what he remembers.” Eddie’s voice is low, soothing, but firm. He’s not going to let Buck argue with him on this one. “You know what he told me? That you _saved_ him. That’s what he remembers.”

“But I… I just feel like I failed.” It’s almost worse than the idea of failing Eddie, because Eddie’s an adult. Christopher’s just a kid, and he’s the best kid Buck’s ever met, but he’s still a child and he depends on the adults around him and Buck was that adult and Buck didn’t keep him safe.

Eddie looks rueful. His hand slides down, cups the back of Buck’s neck, grounding.

“You know, the woman who found him—she said he spent the whole time asking for you. Not me. He kept asking for Buck.”

That—that makes Buck’s heart trip and stutter and nearly fall flat on its face.

“He was scared.” Eddie’s thumb rubs up and down slowly. Buck wonders if Eddie’s aware he’s doing it. “It was terrifying. But he wanted you. Because he knew he would be safe with you.”

Buck doesn’t know what to do with that. His eyes are wet.

“I fail that kid every day. But I love him enough to keep trying.” Eddie’s hand moves to his shoulder, squeezes. He tips his head, does that thing where he’s tilting until he forces Buck to meet his gaze. And Buck—Buck can never avoid Eddie’s eyes, not for any real amount of time.

“And I know you do too.” Eddie’s never sounded so serious before. “There’s no one I trust with my son more than you.”

The urge to crumple, to wrap himself around Eddie, to beg Eddie to wrap himself around him, is so fucking strong that Buck nearly sways on the spot. He has to blink a few times, get his vision cleared again. He’s not gonna cry over this, dammit.

He’s never been—he knows he’s reckless, and that he’s made mistakes. He knows that he’s not always been the most responsible person. But he’s trying, he’s really trying, and to see that even after yesterday, even after everything, Eddie still—more than anyone—after all that Christopher has been through, after Shannon, to hear that from Eddie who is far from what you’d call a ‘relaxed’ parent—it means more than possibly anything he’s heard in his life. Possibly the only moment that’s ever meant more to him was hearing Maddie say _I never stopped fighting_.

Eddie’s clearly waiting for a response, so Buck nods. “Thank you.” His voice is soft and choked.

Eddie squeezes his shoulder again, then drops his hand. “Maybe take him somewhere inland this time. Like the zoo.”

He winks, which the fucker knows turns Buck’s knees to water, and then he’s out the door. Leaving Christopher with Buck. Leaving his son with Buck. His trust with Buck. Again.

Buck has no clue what to do with that.

* * *

Eddie can’t stop thinking about it.

The tsunami.

Or rather, Buck standing in front of him, covered in blood and sweat and grime, holding out Christopher’s glasses, hand and voice shaking, more utterly wrecked than Eddie may have ever seen him. The shock of frozen panic, colder than the waves he’d been swimming in earlier in the day crashed into him, and then the staggering relief when he caught sight of a familiar head of hair over Buck’s shoulder, so powerful it sent him to his knees.

He got the full story from Christopher later, and yes, he’s a kid, yes, he’s idealistic, but Eddie’s more willing to trust his son than whatever self-loathing, guilt-stricken nonsense narrative Buck’s adopted for himself.

_I lost him._

_You saved him._

Eddie almost kisses him then, before walking out the door to go to work. Almost kisses him because from what Chris says, Buck saved nearly twenty people and kept Christopher safe for as long as he could, pulled him out of the water when he easily could have drowned, searched for him for so long that Buck physically collapsed and needed two blood transfusions—

All Eddie can think about is that he would have done the exact same thing. And that means…everything.

He’s been…holding back with Buck. Afraid to kiss him, afraid to touch him, because the last time he really did, Buck nearly died. But…Buck could have died anyway in the tsunami.

Eddie’s not entirely oblivious, he knows what Buck wanted the day Eddie brought him home from the hospital. And he said no then. Now though…

Life is short. Clearly. And they can try to micromanage it, but at the end of the day, people get hit by cars, they drown in sinking ships. They develop blood clots.

Shit happens.

So…maybe he’ll say yes. If Buck asks again.

Maybe Buck isn’t the only one who needs to cling to someone.

* * *

Three days later, and Buck still feels partially like he’s floating in the water, swimming, trying to keep his head up.

Part of him wants to let go and float, but he can’t, not when he doesn’t know where the tide will take him, and all he knows is he can’t sleep for shit and he still feels like hell and he knows Eddie’s forgiven him and Christopher still seems delighted to spend time with him but he still doesn’t feel…right. It’s not like how he felt after the first time he and Eddie had sex—if anything, it’s the opposite. It’s like being wound up tight, and wanting—to let go of everything that’s building up inside of him, that’s trapped inside of him, and not knowing how to do that.

He's felt this way a few times before. When Abby left, and earlier—in college he’d get high or go to a party and get plastered, but he’d always been wickedly hungover the next day and besides while he’s still recovering and on medication he doesn’t want to risk that kind of thing.

And if he’s being honest, what he really wants is that hand on the back of his neck again, carding through his hair, squeezing his shoulder. Or…other things.

It’s been a while since their last phone call like this, but his finger’s on the talk button before he can stop himself.

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice is rough with sleep.

“Hey, sorry, I—I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He can hear Eddie shuffling around. “What’s up?”

The thing is, now that he’s called him, Buck’s not sure what to say.

 _I know you haven’t said anything about sleeping with me again, but I really need someone to take me out of my head before I lose it,_ doesn’t quite have the right ring to it. Even if it’s true.

 _I miss you_ , also doesn’t feel right. Even if it’s also true.

“Buck?”

Buck wets his lip and stares up at the ceiling.

“Do you ever think about that first time you came over? When we…”

Eddie’s quiet, then clears his throat. “I—yeah. I do.”

“In a good way?”

Another pause, then— “Aside from the part where I messed up after? …yeah. In a good way. It was—I hadn’t ever—I didn’t know it could be like that. I liked it…maybe too much.”

Eddie’s voice is low, like it’s a confession being dragged out of him, very much for Buck’s ears only. Buck’s pulse ticks up, the words firmly putting to rest the nagging insecurity that appears whenever Buck thinks about it, that says he was the only one who did, that Eddie hated it and that’s why they never did anything like it again.

“I think about it, too. In a good way,” Buck admits.

Eddie hums on the other end of the line and Buck swallows hard.

“You know,” Eddie says, “if you want something, you should ask for it.”

 _Oh._ When Buck breathes, it’s shaky.

“I—can we—”

“Yes.”

Buck shivers, the heated promise in Eddie’s voice lighting him up like a Christmas tree. Part of Buck really wants to start now—unlike the last time they talked on the phone this late, there isn’t anything stopping them really, and his hand is already drifting down his thigh. It would be so easy to let Eddie wind him up with nothing but words, especially when Eddie is so good at them in this particular arena. At the same time, it’s also about one in the morning and Eddie has a shift tomorrow.

“Thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for, right?” Eddie’s smiling, he can tell. “We’re friends. Friends help each other. And this is why we started this, so we can…help each other in this kind of way, right?”

Friends. Yeah. That’s—that’s what they are. That’s what this is. Good to have the reminder. But Eddie’s right. He couldn’t go to some stranger with this. Or a club? Sure, Buck knows about BDSM clubs, he’s not a complete idiot living under a rock, but he’s not sure he could walk in and trust somebody that he doesn’t really know, and he’s not into the—the whips and chains stuff. Or maybe he is, who the fuck knows, but he’s not about to find out with a random person and that’s not what he needs right now.

He just needs someone to get him to stop thinking.

“Right,” he says out loud. “Should we… um. Talk about this—when we do movie night?”

They do movie night with Christopher, where they watch things like Disney films and The Goonies, and then they do their own movie nights where they watch the stupidest action films and eat popcorn and usually end up talking through the entire thing, barely paying attention to what’s on screen after Christopher goes to bed.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice is warm. “Let’s do that.”

Buck’s jaw cracks around a yawn. Yeah, phone sex is not a good idea right now.

Eddie chuckles. “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

Buck hangs up the phone, feeling like he’s still floating, but now there’s a hand underneath him, ready to catch him if he starts to sink.

* * *

They don’t do it the same night they talk. Well, they do have sex, on the couch, still almost entirely clothed, Eddie’s hand around them both, kissing Buck through it the entire time. It’s the first time they’ve done anything sexual since the kitchen, and Eddie’s oddly—touchy? That’s not the right word. Buck’s not sure there even is a word for what Eddie is. It’s just a handjob, just stroking their cocks together while they make out, but he feels oddly intertwined with Eddie, feels held, holding, his hands digging into Eddie’s back, his shirt still on, the fabric twisting between his fingers.

But there’s not enough time to talk about everything and then give their… needs… the time that they deserve, so they just call it a day after the casual business-as-usual sex.

They want a nice, long stretch of time, a time when they’re not worrying about having to leave to do responsibilities, so it takes a few more days, and Buck feels like he’s going to claw his own goddamn skin off by the time it rolls around.

It would be uncouth to open the door naked, so he keeps his sweats and a shirt on when he opens it, but the second Eddie steps through he moves to strip.

“Oh my God.” Eddie laughs and grabs his wrists, kicking the door closed. “No, no, no, that’s not how we’re doing things. I thought I was in charge around here?”

He tugs on Buck forward using the grip on his wrists and turns him, presses him against the wall, rubs his thumbs in small circles against the fragile skin of Buck’s inner wrists. All of the breath seems to leave Buck in a rush. He feels like he can’t inhale.

“You good?” Eddie murmurs. His gaze is dark, moving slowly over Buck’s face, searching.

Buck nods. “Yeah.” He’s beyond good. He feels like he’s finally been given the key to the door he’s been trying to open, and he can’t wait to step through.

Eddie shifts his weight, tips his head a little bit, assessing. “You want this?”

“Yes.” He wants it so badly he can’t even articulate it.

“You sure?”

He can’t tell if Eddie’s teasing him or if he’s seriously double-checking. “Yes.”

“Then where’s my ‘please’?”

Oh God. Buck’s mouth goes dry and he has to swallow a couple of times. “Please.”

“Very good.” Eddie leans in with calculated, unbearable slowness, until Buck’s ready to surge forward and claim his mouth, but that’s not his place right now. Eddie’s in charge. Eddie does what he wants, and Buck just has to relax and trust him.

It’s exactly what Buck wanted. They’ve barely even started and he already feels better. Solid.

Eddie pauses, his mouth so close that Buck can feel his breath. If he moves at all, their lips will touch. He seems to be waiting for something, and Buck isn’t sure exactly what, a whine building in the back of his throat because he wants so badly—but then, like a lightbulb flicking on, he gets it.

“Please,” he asks again—or starts to, but Eddie’s mouth is on his before he can even finish getting the word out.

Eddie releases Buck’s wrists and slides his hands up underneath Buck’s shirt, smoothing them over Buck’s stomach, his thumbs swiping back and forth slightly. Buck’s hands fall to Eddie’s waist, just to find somewhere to hold onto, as Eddie’s hands move higher and higher, until his thumbs are scraping over Buck’s nipples, rubbing around them, teasing them. His tongue doesn’t stop moving the whole time, slipping in and out of Buck’s mouth—it’s like a slow, thorough fucking, and Buck just sucks on it, his legs steadily turning into jelly. His hands move up, his arms draping over Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie moves in counterpoint, steps closer, presses them together completely, his hands sliding around to press his palms, fingers splayed, against Buck’s back.

He's swelling, getting hard, pushing up against Eddie’s hip, and he knows Eddie can feel it when a chuckle slips into the next kiss. Eddie grinds up into him and he moans, fuck, Eddie’s hard too, and he wants—he wants—

Eddie pulls back, lightly scratching down Buck’s lower back. “Now that’s a good boy.”

The instinct to sink to his knees is so fierce that he nearly just collapses then and there. Eddie draws his fingers around, takes Buck’s shirt in his hands, pulls it up over his head. Buck moves with it, obedient, lets Eddie push his sweats down next. He’s naked, now, and Eddie’s fully clothed, and there’s something delicious and thrilling in that contrast.

Eddie draws his finger slowly down Buck’s chest, smirking at the shiver and goosebumps that follow in its wake. He stops, right where the trail of hair that leads down from Buck’s navel begins, the pad of his finger pausing there.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. He sounds like a prowling wolf. “Already shaking for it.”

It’s true. He could blame it on being naked, on the cool air from the A/C, but that would be a lie. It’s all because of Eddie.

Eddie tips his head up towards the stairs. “Get up there. Kneel on the bed.”

They went over what they did and didn’t want, did and didn’t like, so he knows for sure what won’t happen, but that still leaves so many possibilities for what might happen that his head is spinning. He tries not to trip as he goes up the stairs.

He’s only kneeling on the bed for about thirty seconds before Eddie follows, stripped naked, and fuck, Buck’s never gonna get over how hot he is. He looks good, thanks, and he knows it, but Eddie—Eddie is something else, Eddie’s gorgeous.

Buck could be wrong, but he thinks Eddie’s breath catches when he sees him obediently kneeling there. Like when he’s good, it does things to Eddie just like Eddie does things to Buck. He crawls up the bed, arranges himself on the pillow like a fucking king, and stretches a hand out. “Come here.”

Buck does as he’s told, and when Eddie’s fingers slide into his hair, he shudders all the way down to his toes. It’s obvious what Eddie wants, as he urges Buck forward and down, and Buck moves easily, nuzzling at Eddie’s cock, lapping at it.

“Very good. Finish getting me ready to fuck you.” Eddie pets through his hair, gentle but firm, keeping Buck’s head in place as Buck focuses everything just on getting Eddie fully hard, on getting Eddie wet, slick, ready.

The rest of the world doesn’t exist. The rest of his damn bedroom doesn’t exist. Everything is narrowed down to this one task, to the taste and feel and smell of Eddie. He can sink into the water and it’s okay. He’s held. Guided.

He’s also hard against the sheets, and his hips hitch a little now and again as he sucks Eddie down properly, stretches his jaw with him. Eddie shifts, gets his leg in between Buck’s, and presses his thigh up.

“Go ahead.” He moves his hand around, strokes the bulge in Buck’s cheek. “I know you need it.”

A groan slips out of him and he ruts shamelessly against Eddie’s leg, still sucking him, going down as far as he can. Eddie’s grip tightens, keeps him in place, and he starts thrusting up into him, brutal, efficient, using him like the time he straddled him only even more so, and Buck can’t even thrust properly anymore, he just writhes against Eddie, desperate, wild, as Eddie whispers _good, yeah, that’s it, so good, so fuckin’ good_ , and Buck’s so close he can taste it.

Eddie’s grip tightens even further and he spills right down Buck’s throat. His voice is firm but not harsh, commanding but soft.

“Swallow it.”

Buck does, as much as he can, and when some slips out of the corners of his mouth, Eddie wipes it away with his thumb and pushes it back in, between Buck’s lips, making Buck suck it right off his finger.

He’s not sure if it’s the possessive, pleased look on Eddie’s face, the thumb in his mouth, or both, but he comes with a hard jerk.

If Eddie minds the mess all over his leg, he doesn’t mention it. He reaches for the tissues by the bed, casual as if he’s getting a napkin to wipe popcorn butter off his fingers, and takes care of it, pushing Buck until Buck rolls over onto his side.

The snick of the lube bottle has Buck struggling not to squirm in anticipation. Yeah, he just came, sure, but if the last time proved anything, it’s that Eddie does not stop at just one orgasm. This was just to take the edge off, giving him time to really play.

“So desperate. Good.” Eddie wraps an arm around him, presses up against his back, moves his other hand between Buck’s legs. His finger circles around Buck’s entrance, teases him. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” Buck pauses. “Yes, please.”

“A fast learner.” He can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice, and a second later there’s a kiss to his neck, then another to his shoulder.

Buck relaxes back into him, lets Eddie take his weight, and exhales slowly as Eddie slides a finger into him. They’ve done this enough times that there’s no longer the instinctive concern, and he can just enjoy it as Eddie works him open.

He thought that Eddie would go quick and dirty, tease him, get him wild again, but instead, Eddie’s taking his time. He avoids the angle that’ll make Buck cry out, and instead just seems content to stretch him as slowly as possible. It makes Buck drift, makes him just give into the hazy pleasure of it, makes him feel like there’s nothing but this. It builds and builds in him, brick upon brick upon brick, until he realizes it’s not enough—he’s standing on tiptoes, the water up to his chin, and he just wants to be allowed to slip under. He pushes back down against Eddie’s fingers, grabs onto Eddie’s arms, turns his head, tries to kiss whatever part his mouth can reach.

Eddie chuckles. “Look at you.”

He kisses the corner of Buck’s mouth but doesn’t change the rhythm or angle of his fingers. It’s maddening, pleasure but not enough to bring him to the edge. He needs more.

“Please.” The word is breathless, punched out of him. “Please, Eddie, I—I need—”

“I know, I know.” Eddie presses his mouth luxuriously all over Buck’s neck, like Buck’s a meal he’s savoring. “Not yet. You know how this goes. And I think you’re a bit too coherent. I’m not sure you really need it.”

“Fuck, I do, I do, please—” A jumble of begging and swearing tumbles out of his mouth and he arches, tries to put himself on display, showing Eddie all that’s his if he’ll just stop playing and take it.

Eddie’s fingers slide out of him and he sobs in relief—only to be turned onto his stomach, Eddie straddling him. The movement’s so fast for a second gravity flips around, and he’s left breathless.

Eddie presses him down into the bed, his weight grounding him, his mouth right at Buck’s ear. Buck’s hips stop their restless movement and he whines. It’s the only sound he knows how to make. Words are gone.

“Stay. Still.” Eddie’s voice is soft, but firm as a boulder. He grinds against him and Buck can feel how hard he is. God, he wants Eddie inside him. It feels like the only important thing in the world.

He makes himself stay still, makes himself obey, doesn’t arch up into the touch like he wants.

Eddie kisses the soft skin just behind his ear. “Good boy. You’re always so good for me.”

Buck melts. That’s what he wants, yes.

Eddie’s hands slide slowly up his shoulders, his arms, to his wrists, pinning them to the bed. He squeezes. Buck’s breath catches.

“You liked this, didn’t you?” Eddie asks. “My marks on you.”

It takes him a minute to get his brain online enough to respond. “Yes.”

“Here?” Eddie squeezes his wrists again. Buck feels like there’s lava in his stomach and someone’s stirring it.

“Yes.”

Eddie’s hands move to his hips and squeeze, hard. “Here?”

“Yes.”

His head is yanked back, Eddie’s fingers tight in his hair, and then Eddie’s fingers are ghosting over his throat. “Here?”

He’s barely touching him, but wherever his fingers trail, Buck’s skin lights up. He shivers, can hardly breathe, his cock staining the sheets.

“Anywhere.”

And he means it. Eddie could put marks anywhere he chose. Buck wants them. It’s possibly dangerous, to be so ready to give all of yourself to someone, to put that power in their hands—and one time, Buck chose wrong. Chose someone who, without meaning to, hurt him and left him and his busted heart.

But Eddie won’t hurt him. Eddie will never abuse this power. He’ll never hurt Buck for the sake of hurting him, or revel in Buck’s pain. He wants to make Buck feel good and Buck trusts that more than almost anything. No, Eddie will never hurt him. At least, not like this.

As for the other way… at least this time he’s going into it knowing that he’s not loved in return.

“Mmm… maybe someday,” Eddie muses, and his fingers fall away from Buck’s throat. He releases his grip on Buck’s hair and Buck’s head falls forward, pressing into the mattress again. Eddie’s hand rests lightly on the back of his neck. “For now…”

Eddie shifts and for a second, Buck thinks he’s finally going to be fucked—but it’s just Eddie’s fingers again, sliding into him like they never left.

A sob of frustration leaves him and it takes everything in him to stay still and not move.

“Keep nice and still for me,” Eddie warns. “I’d hate to leave you like this.”

It’s an empty threat, because Eddie won’t leave him, but the words still make him freeze. The last thing he wants is for Eddie to stop touching him. It feels like if Eddie stops, Buck’ll die. And yeah, it’s not logical, but logic isn’t in charge right now.

Eddie finally strokes his prostate, and Buck wails, caught off-guard, so keyed up that he wonders if this is what being electrocuted is like (although that’s probably a lot less pleasurable than this). His hands tighten in the sheets and he nearly thrusts into the mattress, catching himself just in time.

“Oh, very good.” Eddie must’ve noticed that, then.

He kisses slowly down Buck’s spine, and Buck can feel the pride and pleasure radiating off of Eddie like ocean waves. He hits Buck’s prostate on the next thrust and Buck’s mouth drops open, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He wants to come so badly, he wants to _move_ so badly, every minute shift of the sheets under him, against his cock, is fucking torture. It all feels so good and he’s so close but he _can’t_.

Just when he thinks he can’t possibly take any more, just when he thinks he might come in spite of himself, Eddie pulls his fingers out and grabs Buck’s hips, lifting him up and spreading his legs.

The sudden lack of any touch whatsoever, inside of him or on his cock, has him making a pathetic half-whine, half-sob.

Eddie strokes his sides. “I know, I know, you’re doing so well, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Let it all out.”

He’s shaking uncontrollably, and Eddie wraps an arm around him, presses up against his back again, shushes and kisses him until Buck slowly comes back down. He doesn’t feel like he’s about to burst out of his skin anymore, but fuck, he still desperately wants to come.

“That was a lot and you did such a good job. You were so obedient.” Eddie nuzzles into his neck and Buck’s eyes just about roll back into his head. He wants Eddie touching him everywhere, forever.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Eddie explains, lightly stroking Buck’s stomach. “And I’m gonna come, and if you’re good, then when I’m finished, _maybe_ you can come. But not until I do. Understand?”

Buck nods.

Eddie nips at his shoulder. “Words, Buck.”

It takes some effort. “Yes, I understand.”

“Okay.” And then—finally, yes, _finally_ —Eddie pushes inside of him.

Buck moans so loud he’s pretty sure he’s disturbing the neighbors.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop,” Eddie reminds him.

“Yes, sir,” he blurts out, and it’s partly a joke, but Eddie’s entire body jerks and Buck gets a thrust inside him so hard he sees stars.

“Sir,” Eddie repeats, the word rolled around in his mouth. “You keep saying that, I really will have to let you come again.”

If he was twenty years old he would be coming this instant, orders or no. But he’s older, and not only does he have more self-control, he also really needs a touch on his cock to help him along, tip him over, and Eddie’s obviously avoiding that.

Eddie’s hands tighten around his hips, and that’s all the warning he gets before he’s fucking into Buck, so deep Buck’s pretty sure he can feel it coming up the back of his goddamn throat. Eddie was right about making him unable to speak—his moans trail off into whines and then those are gone, too, and he’s just choking on his own spit and panting helplessly as Eddie slides into him at that perfect angle like he’s racing someone for it.

There are going to be bruises on his hips tomorrow, and he can’t wait to see them.

Eddie falls forward, groans right in Buck’s ear, and stops thrusting. He just grinds, over and over, his cock completely filling him, pressing right up against Buck’s prostate, and it’s the longest, dirtiest orgasm he’s ever felt or seen Eddie have and fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , it might also be the hottest thing he’s ever felt or seen, period.

Thank God his elbows are locked, or he’d have faceplanted onto the bed.

Eddie’s still inside him, still _hard_ inside him, and he’ll be softening soon but fucking Christ right now he’s still filling Buck up and Buck might actually be going insane. He needs to come so fucking badly.

“Please, sir?” he gasps. Hey, Eddie seemed to like it earlier.

Eddie groans and at last wraps a hand around his cock. “Say it again. _Beg_.”

“Please, sir,” Buck repeats, and doesn’t stop, even as Eddie starts stroking him, _please_ and _sir_ and _oh God_ blurring together in his mouth until he can’t form words or even sounds, he’s just seizing up, helpless, coming so hard he curls up like a pill bug.

He feels… fuzzy, afterwards, but good, so very, very good. And all he wants to do is curl up and be touched. They both kind of fall sideways onto the bed and he turns, nuzzles into Eddie, wraps his arms around him.

Eddie chuckles, and two fingers hook under his chin, and then he’s being kissed. Being kissed is the best, it’s his favorite thing in the whole damn world in this moment. And he gets as many kisses as he wants, as much touch as he wants, gets Eddie praising him and stroking his hair.

He passes out for a while, although he’s not sure if Eddie also sleeps or not, and when he wakes up—it’s in Eddie’s arms. It’s nothing like last time, that vaguely crappy feeling, the headache, the shame. Instead Eddie’s ordered takeout, and they shower, and kiss for what feels like hours under the warm spray, and then they eat in bed and Eddie just keeps praising him, and petting his hair, and Buck feels for the first time in a fucking week like his chest isn’t hurting and he can breathe and he’s not a fuck up. Like he did something right, like he deserves to feel this good.

It takes… a couple hours for speech to come back. He can think things, but for some reason, the brain-to-mouth connection is offline, and he just can’t say anything. Eddie’s patient, and never once stops touching him, and when Buck cranes his face up for a kiss, Eddie’s always there.

His voice is rusty when he finally speaks. “Holy fuck.”

“Yeah.” Eddie sounds amused. When Buck looks up at him, he’s smiling.

Fuck, he’s so—yeah. With Eddie. And it feels so ungrateful after all that Eddie’s just given him and done for him, how good Eddie’s made him feel, but he wishes like anything they were in Eddie’s bed, in Eddie’s house. He wishes that they could just laze around in bed for the next few hours until Christopher came home, and then they’d play a board game and have dinner and he could tuck Christopher into bed and he could curl up with Eddie and hear Eddie’s heartbeat under his ear and never, ever have to hide his desire to touch, to hold, to—everything.

But that’s not what Eddie wants or needs, and he’s been given so much already, and this is—this is good. It’s nice. It’s exactly what he needed.

He turns his face before anything of what he’s feeling can show on it, and tucks it into Eddie’s neck.

“You were so good for me,” Eddie murmurs, and oh, that fills him with a golden glowing warmth, but he also wants to say, _I could be good for you in other ways._

_I could be good for you all the time._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a lawsuit. And perhaps a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally cannot express in words how much I hate this arc. It's so inaccurate and unrealistic and THAT'S NOT HOW LAWSUITS WORK but anyway here you all go. Also, shoutout to Lena Bosko, the true MVP of this chapter. Honestly, she and Eddie are peak wlw/mlm solidarity.

The problem with making snap judgments about quitting your job is that they are, by definition, spontaneous. And it’s not until after the tsunami, after his next round of doctor’s appointments, that Buck realizes…oh, right. His health insurance—his very excellent _firefighter_ health insurance—is in fact tied to his working for…the fire department. 

On the plus side, it turns out when you spontaneously quit your job verbally, in private, in a hospital hallway to the captain of your unit without filing any official paperwork, it may still be possible to transfer to a desk job while you figure out what the fuck you’re going to do with the rest of your life, so that you can continue being treated for your serious medical conditions without totally getting fucked over by the U.S. health system.

The downside…Buck fucking hates being a fire marshal. He doesn’t care about checklists, he doesn’t care about reports, he’s not very good at writing them anyway, and considering that some building official is probably going to come in after him and make their own findings about whether a given building is up to code and what should be done with it, he feels pretty…redundant.

Also. The uniform sucks.

“Don’t laugh.”

Eddie presses his lips together as he gives Buck a once-over.

“You look like you should be selling bibles,” he says. Buck throws a pen at him.

“See what I have to say about the 118 during the next certification test after comments like that _Firefighter Diaz_ ,” Buck replies.

Eddie raises an eyebrow and pushes himself off the couch to step into Buck’s space.

“How about this then.” Eddie places a hand on Buck’s chest and gently shoves him back until he hits the wall. Then Eddie leans in and sets his mouth to Buck’s ear. “You look like you’re begging to be made a mess of. And I would be more than happy to oblige.”

Buck’s breath catches, his eyes fluttering shut.

Okay. Maybe the uniform doesn’t…totally suck.

“Right now?” He asks hopefully. 

Eddie laughs, ghosting a kiss across Buck’s mouth before stepping back.

“I have a shift. Just stopped by to see if you wanted a ride to city hall.”

“Just wanted to catch me in this getup so you can mock me for eternity, you mean.”

“Well, six of one…”

Buck hooks two fingers in the collar of Eddie’s shirt and tugs him in for a real kiss, licking into his mouth hot and filthy. Look, if they’re going to be friends with benefits, he’s going to take full advantage at least.

“Only teases make empty promises,” Buck pants when he pulls away. Eddie’s eyes are dark, his mouth red and slick, and for a minute Buck thinks he may just change his mind.

“Who says it’s empty?” Eddie shoots back, dragging his thumb down Buck’s throat before straightening Buck’s tie. “I’m just saying _later_. Patience is a virtue.” 

Buck shivers. “But instant gratification is so much more fun.”

One final kiss, and then Eddie steps fully out of reach.

“So? Ride?”

Buck shakes his head. “I have an inspection later. Need my own car to drive out to it.”

“Guess I’ll see you later then…choir boy.” Eddie leaves him with a smirk and another once-over, and Buck grins until the door shuts behind him.

But then, the high of a fast make-out and some questionable flirting wears off, and the smile drops. Because Buck _should_ be able to carpool to work with Eddie. Not because city hall happens to be on the way to the station, but because Buck belongs _at_ the station. With Eddie. With his team. 

The side of him that wants to be an eternal optimist thinks the fire marshal thing is just a quick detour, that the doctors will figure out this blood clot issue and take him off the blood thinners and he’ll be just fine, welcomed back to the 118 with open arms, like he never left. The less than generous part says they’ve probably already replaced him, or that they will. That they can’t wait forever for him to be fine, for his body to stop betraying him.

_The department’s concerned about liability._

More like, they think _he’s_ a liability. And goodness knows, sleeping with Eddie, when they can find the time for it, may get him out of his head for a few hours at a time, maybe a day, but the anxiety always comes back, like an itch under his skin that he can’t reach. Which…isn’t something he can talk to Eddie about. Because Eddie thinks he’s fine. Eddie thinks he’s adjusted. Eddie said _you almost died_ and _you have your whole life ahead of you_ and _stop feeling sorry for yourself_ like Buck should just find it so easy to move on. Well, Buck’s sure all of those things were easy to say coming from someone who hasn’t been in this place he’s stuck in, wandering aimlessly, searching for purpose, but it’s _not_ easy to live it. 

It’s not.

Buck rubs a hand over his face and sighs. And then, he goes to work.

* * *

Christopher isn’t sleeping through the night. 

He’s not sleeping. He wakes up screaming and crying and Eddie…doesn’t know what to do. There isn’t a parenting handbook in general, and if there was, Eddie’s pretty sure it still wouldn’t have a chapter on _what to do when your child almost dies in a natural disaster_. 

Some nights are easier than others—the handful of times Buck had been over, when the two of them were making out on the couch or in Eddie’s room when Christopher had woken up, and they could settle him down between them, the times Christopher would cling to Buck as much as to Eddie because Buck was there during it all when Eddie wasn’t, those were easy. But usually, Eddie is alone, and when he stretches out in Christopher’s bed while soothing his son back to sleep, when Christopher is clinging to his shirt and Eddie knows he’s committed to staying until morning, he’s afraid to close his own eyes. Afraid to fall asleep. Because Eddie has his own nightmares, and he doesn’t know when they’re going to happen, and he’s sure as hell not going to risk it when he’s lying next to his kid. Which means, on those nights…Eddie doesn’t sleep. And the cycle repeats the next day. 

Eddie wants to climb out of his skin. 

He would settle for a nap.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

It’s three weeks since Buck started as a fire marshal, several days since the last time they managed to successfully be alone, they’re shirtless in Buck’s bed—and Eddie yawns in the middle of kissing him. It’s…possible he should have expected that, seeing how when he came home from his shift, Carla took one look at him and sent him off again, saying he was a rundown mess in need of some TLC and she had better not see him back before 8PM at least. But Buck’s seemed like the best place to go, and he thought, hey, why not?

“That bored, huh?” Buck says, and Eddie is about to apologize again when he notices the smile playing around Buck’s mouth. 

Eddie huffs a laugh and drops his forehead to Buck’s shoulder. “Shut up, you know it’s not you.”

“Chris still not sleeping?” Buck’s hand finds its way to Eddie’s back and strokes up and down, a soothing circuit. Eddie’s arms feel like noodles, no longer up for holding his weight now that he’s actively acknowledged his exhaustion, so he lets himself drop, rolling slightly so he can curl into Buck’s side instead of just falling on him like a sack of bricks. 

“Not with any sort of consistency,” Eddie replies, the words muffled by Buck’s neck. “Think I might have to take him to therapy. Don’t seem to be doing so hot at managing this myself.”

“I went to therapy once,” Buck shares.

“Yeah? How did that go?” Eddie bites back a groan as Buck’s hand moves to the back of his neck, thumb pressing into a tight knot of muscle. 

“I slept with my therapist during the first session and then I never went back.” 

“Oh my god.” Eddie shakes with laughter as his eyes slide shut, as he slings an arm across Buck’s waist and presses closer, wanting to sink into Buck’s warmth and the softness of the mattress and disappear.

Buck’s quiet for a moment, even as his thumb continues to draw gentle circles on the back of Eddie’s neck.

“You’re a good dad,” he reminds him finally. “And he’s a great kid. It’s gonna be okay.”

Eddie hums, the world already slipping away. He thinks Buck kisses the top of his head, but he isn’t sure.

He sleeps. 

When Eddie wakes up, he’s alone. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s about 7:30, and he rubs at his eyes and stretches before following the smell of food and the low sound of Buck’s voice.

“Yeah, he’s sleeping—” A quiet laugh. “—I know—okay—sure, I’ll tell him. Thanks, Carla.”

“What did she say?” Eddie asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Buck looks over his shoulder as he sets the phone aside. “Just checking to make sure you were here and hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel and driven off a bridge or something. And she told me to tell you that Christopher has eaten, they’re working on a puzzle, and he is perfectly happy, so don’t feel like you have to rush back.”

“God, that woman is a saint.”

“More than anyone I’ve ever met,” Buck agrees. He tips his head and looks Eddie over. “Feel better?”

“Yeah. Thank you for…” _Giving me a safe place to land._

Buck’s face goes strange for a moment, but it returns to normal so quickly that Eddie isn’t sure he didn’t imagine it.

“What are friends for?” Buck says, and Eddie closes the distance and kisses him.

“I mean it anyway,” he replies. “Thank you.”

After that, it takes no effort at all to convince Buck to join him in the shower, and Eddie wastes no time before dropping to his knees and reminding Buck just how enthusiastic he can be when not running on fumes. 

The next day, Eddie calls a therapist and makes an appointment for Christopher. And slowly, things start to get better.

* * *

Buck dislikes Lena Bosko on sight. 

Which isn’t really fair, he knows that. He doesn’t know her. For all he knows, she’s perfectly nice. She didn’t ask to have her unit ripped apart during the tsunami, didn’t ask to be temporarily reassigned to the 118—and it is a _temporary_ reassignment, Buck tries to remind himself. But something about the casual way she calls across the station, _hey, Diaz, can I get a spot over here_ , the way Eddie just goes, no hesitation, not even a _sure, just a minute_ , the familiarity, the camaraderie, like she slipped easily into the space he left behind and nobody even questioned it—it makes bitter jealousy rise up in his throat, choking him, every single one of his fears realized at once. 

They’re all moving on. Forgetting about him. Even Eddie. 

“Lena?” Eddie says when Buck asks about her later. “Oh, we met during the tsunami. She was climbing the ferris wheel helping to get people out. She’s chill, got a good head on her shoulders. You would like her.”

 _Sure_ , Buck thinks, and then he pins Eddie to the counter and kisses him until Christopher calls for them from the other room. 

It doesn’t help either that the stupid lawyer from his last fire drill keeps calling him, wanting to talk about his _potential case_ , trying to convince him to turn on his family, spouting some legal nonsense Buck doesn’t really understand about adverse employment actions and disability discrimination and constructive termination. It doesn’t help that all of that gets stuck in his head even if Buck doesn’t want it there, making him wonder if there’s a better way to handle all of this, a better way than sitting on the sidelines and waiting and hoping for the higher-ups in the department to change their minds.

 _I’m proud of you_ , Bobby had said during the drill. Proud. That Buck’s being such a team player by taking what amounts to a demotion because he really didn’t have a choice. Proud that he stopped making noise. Proud that he stopped fighting. 

_I’m proud of you_. Buck replays it over and over in his head alone in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling. 

Yeah…that’s great and all, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t proud of himself.

When Buck goes over to Bobby and Athena’s for dinner a few nights later, he has a plan. He doesn’t need that lawyer, he doesn’t need to make trouble. But there’s no reason why he should stay the course like he has, rolling over and taking whatever bullshit arguments the department wants to make about why he shouldn’t come back.

He saved at least twenty people, by himself, out of uniform, while on blood thinners during the tsunami. He’s not useless, he’s not some unstable liability. He’s ready. Surely Bobby will help him—

“I’m the one who told them you weren’t ready,” Bobby admits. “When they asked for my opinion—it was me.”

Buck knows he’s sitting down, but that doesn’t lessen the feeling that the whole world has dropped out from underneath him. His stomach feels full of lead, his throat raw like he’s swallowed glass. 

“We’re all just worried about you, Buck,” Athena says, and that hits even harder.

 _We’re all_. Just Bobby and Athena or the whole—the whole team? Everyone?

Eddie?

Buck pushes his chair back abruptly, feeling like he might be sick. He can’t breathe, he can’t think. He just—

All of them have been at the station together for months, and he knows they talk, he knows some of that talk has been about him, but he thought it was just because they were his friends, they were on his side, not—

Bobby made this decision weeks ago. Before the tsunami.

Have they all known since then? 

Did none of them stand up for him? Were none of them on his side after all?

_You could have my back any day._

_Or, you know, you could have mine._

_So, since you’re still alive, since you have your whole life ahead of you—stop feeling sorry for yourself and take the damn win._

_We’re all just worried about you, Buck._

He doesn’t go home. He drives around aimlessly, spiraling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole as the optimistic side of him shatters and crashes down and all the only thing left is the collection of dark, bitter, anxious thoughts that he’s barely been holding at bay as it is.

And then, without even really thinking, he goes to Eddie’s.

“Buck—what—”

“Is Christopher asleep?”

“I—yeah, for now, what’s—”

Buck steps inside, closing the door quietly behind him, then grabs Eddie’s shirt collar and shoves him up against the wall. He kisses Eddie hard and vicious, all teeth and tongue and mind-numbing aggression. He feels out of control, feral, like all he wants is to bite and snap and draw blood.

Eddie tries to turn them, but Buck resists, grabbing Eddie’s wrists and pinning them against the plaster as he tears his mouth away to kiss down Eddie’s neck.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie pants, even as his eyes close and his head tips back to give Buck better access. “What’s gotten into you?”

It burns for no good reason, feels as patronizing as _I’m proud of you_ , like it’s cute or novel that Buck would want this instead of the reverse, like despite the fact that Buck has two inches and at least twenty pounds on Eddie, he never would have even imagined that Buck would pin him to a wall for a change.

_We’re all worried about you._

“I can’t just want to be in control for once?” He’s keeping himself together with a string, and every second it frays more and more.

“Sure you can,” Eddie replies, and Buck hates that Eddie’s voice is so calm, that his face reveals nothing. “You want to pin me against a wall, bend me over the kitchen counter, fuck me in the shower—whatever—I’m perfectly happy to roll with that. But we’re gonna talk about it first because something’s got you so out of your head that I don’t think you even really know what you want right now.”

“Because you know everything about what I want, right?” Buck snaps back. “How I feel, what I need—”

“I know enough to know that whatever the fuck this is, it’s not about me.” Eddie wrenches his wrists out of Buck’s grip and pushes him back. Buck goes. “So, are we going to talk about this like adults, or—?”

 _Did you know?_ It’s on the tip of Buck’s tongue. _Did you know? Did you agree? Have you spent the last several weeks lying to my face?_

But…he’s pretty sure getting actual confirmation would destroy him more than the not knowing.

Buck looks away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No. No, we’ve talked enough. Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Buck—”

He’s out the door again before Eddie can stop him.

He doesn’t look back.

* * *

Buck files a lawsuit. And he doesn’t say a word.

Not a call, not a text. Eddie hadn’t wanted to push, thought he was doing the right thing giving Buck _space_ after the night Buck came over wild-eyed and tense and left Eddie looking like he’d been at least mildly mauled by something. But apparently, while Eddie was giving him space, Buck was _filing a lawsuit_. 

And Eddie finds out from Bobby. Along with everyone else.

_What the fuck?_

“You okay?” Lena asks, knocking her shoulder into his. Eddie snaps out of his spaced out zoning and clears his throat.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you okay?” She repeats slowly. “You look like you’ve been run over by a truck—is it your kid?”

“Uh—no, no he’s—he’s doing a little better actually. Not perfect, but we…talked. “ Talked the night Buck came over in fact. Talked about Shannon, about love, about grief, even though Eddie felt a little bit like he was lying to his kid the whole time, thinking about how Shannon had _needed time_ and had been leaving anyway—but it seemed to help Christopher at any rate, and that’s all that matters. “His mom died about six months back and it turns out the tsunami brought up some other things with that. So. We’re working through it.”

“Okay, well, if it’s not that—girlfriend break up with you?”

Eddie chokes on air. “I don’t—I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Lena raises an eyebrow and pointedly drops her eyes to his neck.

“So that bite mark definitely isn’t a hickey. Got it. Let me guess—you tripped on something?”

Eddie opens his mouth. Closes it. “Nobody broke up with me, okay?”

It’s been awhile, but he’s still pretty sure you have to be dating for that.

Lena steps back and holds up her hands in acceptance. 

“Okay, keep your secrets. But hey, if you start getting the urge to text her after midnight, just remember—it’s never a good idea.” 

It’s nearly 2AM when Eddie reaches for his phone that night. He’s been awake, staring up at the ceiling—he doesn’t know how he’s feeling exactly, but he knows it isn’t good. He wants to rewind, to go back a few nights, to grab Buck’s arm and make him sit down, make him talk, because Eddie doesn’t understand what happened, doesn’t understand why Buck would just run off and do something like this without saying a word—

Buck’s phone doesn’t ring out.

It goes to voicemail after two rings.

So he’s awake. He’s just not taking Eddie’s calls.

Great. Yeah, that’s…great.

He tries again. It gets to three rings. Then voicemail.

 _Buck. Come on. Answer the damn phone,_ Eddie texts.

For a moment, the bubble appears indicating that Buck is typing…then it vanishes.

When Eddie calls again, it goes to voicemail immediately. 

_Fuck._

* * *

It’s funny, the things you don’t notice. 

Logically, Eddie knows how much time he spent with Buck. Even when they no longer had shifts together, there were dinners, movie nights, phone calls.

Sex.

The point being, it was a lot of time. A lot of time that Eddie was aware of in the abstract, but it hits him full force once all of that is gone. Buck’s absence is palpable. A memory here, an empty chair there. Far too many times, Eddie reaches for his phone and calls only to get voicemail, or opens a new text only to remind himself that, oh. Right. 

Buck won’t answer.

Which…if it only impacted Eddie himself, that would be one thing. Sure, it stings to have your best friend suddenly ghost you, it sucks when the first time you see them in ages is across a conference room table, when they’re avoiding your eyes. It stings, and he finds himself choking down a bitter pill of sadness and anger and frustration not unlike when Shannon left the first time, but he could shove it aside, bury it deep, go back to business as usual, implacable Eddie Diaz.

If not for Christopher.

“Daddy? Where’s Buck?” He asks on their third or fourth movie night just the two of them.

And Eddie doesn’t know what to say. Christopher is just starting to finally work through his feelings about Shannon—what if Buck never comes back? Eddie brought him into Christopher’s life, let them get close, _trusted_ Buck with that relationship, and he just—

Walked out. And left Eddie to pick up the pieces.

 _That_ is the piece that makes this mess so unbearable. Eddie doesn’t care what Buck does to him. But he would give anything in the world to protect Christopher’s heart.

“He’s—he’s just a little busy right now, buddy,” Eddie says, and his tongue burns with the half-truth. “He’s working on trying to get his job back, so he can be a firefighter again, and it, uh, it means he can’t come over for awhile, that’s all.”

“But he’ll come back though?”

Eddie swallows hard and pulls Christopher into his side, hugging him around the shoulders.

“I hope so,” he says quietly.

“I miss him.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut.

_Goddammit, Buck._

“Me too, buddy. Me too.”

But there’s nothing Eddie can _do_ is the problem. He thought he could control his life, but he couldn’t control Shannon leaving or coming back or dying, couldn’t stop Buck from having blood clots or from running away and filing a lawsuit, couldn’t fix Christopher’s problems himself—

He’s completely adrift. Unmoored. Nothing to hold onto, nothing to set him right, scattered in all directions. Before, he could find a few hours to spend with Buck, wind both of them up until they were flying, until his head was clear and he could think and he felt like the ground was solid under his feet. He can’t do that now.

So…maybe Eddie punches a guy.

What?

He had it coming. 

“Thanks for coming to bail me out.”

“I was surprised to get your call,” Lena says. “I didn’t realize we’d reached the bail each other out of jail phase of our friendship.”

“Well, there was no way I was going to call my abuela, or the 118, and—” It still burns his throat to say it. “—I’m not allowed to talk to Buck, so—”

Lena looks at him for a long moment, then nods. “I see. I mean, that’s fine and all, I’m happy to do it. But, I’m a little concerned about you punching a handicapped guy because you’re in a fight with your boyfriend.”

“Okay, he wasn’t handicapped, he had a bad knee, and—” Eddie’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt. “What?”

She rolls her eyes. “I may not have been here as long as the rest of you, but I have eyes, and I hear things. And you’ve been moping around like you got dumped since the day we found out about the lawsuit.”

Eddie doesn’t even know what to say. It’s like his brain has gone completely offline, blue screen of death, desperately in need of a hard reset.

“That’s—Buck and I aren’t—”

“Who gave you the hickey I pointed out that one day?” She interrupts. “And as a reminder, I did just bail you out of jail. So…some honesty wouldn’t be amiss.”

“We’re friends,” Eddie says, but it sounds even weaker now than it did when he told Carla in the hospital.

Lena hums sympathetically. “Yeah, I’ve had _friends_ like that. Always seems like such a great idea until someone ends up with their heart broken.”

“I—” _Shit._ That’s—he hadn’t—

The past several months flicker across his mind like a projection wheel, everything thrown into stark relief. 

Eddie’s never been _good_ at this kind of thing. Feelings. Understanding them, acknowledging them. Even as the memories play back, he’s still caught in a swirl of too much at once, and he can’t separate any of it from the mess of the present moment, with Buck too far away, with everything they were in tatters, the uncertainty of the future, but—

They weren’t just friends. He wanted…something. He doesn’t know if he still does or could again or what could happen tomorrow or the next day, and he still has to think about Christopher, everything has to be about that beautiful boy, but…Eddie…wanted something.

_Fuck._

“Oh hell. You didn’t know,” Lena says. “Okay. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

She claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll see. It’ll be fun.”

* * *

Buck regrets the lawsuit almost immediately. Or, he doesn’t regret it exactly—if it gets his job back, it’ll all be worth it. But the way he feels…

He misses Eddie. He’s still twisted up inside at the idea that maybe Eddie knew and didn’t say anything, didn’t fight for him, and that—that hurts. But Buck _misses_ him. Like a limb. Misses his mouth, his hands, the way Eddie smiles at him.

Everything.

Buck pulls out his phone sometimes and looks at the log of missed calls, aching to return them, to explain himself. But Eddie is part of the team. Part of the department. 

So.

Buck always puts the phone away.

When the team comes in for questioning, one after the other, Buck can’t even hold Eddie’s gaze. He hasn’t done anything wrong, that’s what he tells himself. 

It doesn’t help.

And then…Buck runs into all of them in the grocery store. It’s Eddie’s turn to avoid his eyes, but Buck wants to push him—it’s natural at this point, instinct.

_Look at me. Look._

“Why are _you_ so pissed at me?” Buck throws out.

“Because you’re exhausting,” Eddie fires back, and Buck flinches. “We all have our own problems and yet somehow we all manage to suck it up.”

“That’s kind of harsh,” Chim interjects. “It’s not like the guy asked to be crushed by a ladder truck.”

“No, but he filed a stupid lawsuit, and now I can’t even talk to you because of it.” Buck opens his mouth to talk, when Eddie pushes ahead. “Do you have any idea how much Christopher misses you? How could you—you’re not around.”

Critical hit.

Buck stops breathing. _Oh god._

Just like that, all of his righteous anger vanishes into thin air, and he feels like he could damn near collapse from the weight of the guilt that crashes into his chest. 

_Christopher._ Christopher who was in therapy, Christopher who wasn’t sleeping through the night, Christopher who Buck helped through some of those rough nights, Christopher—

Who he walked out on without a second thought. 

Collateral damage.

Unacceptable.

Buck wants to break down and apologize a million times over, to teleport to Eddie’s house and wrap Christopher in the biggest hug imaginable, to reassure him that Buck never meant to hurt him, that it wasn’t his fault, that he’s not going anywhere again.

Of course, Buck realizes with a sick twist of his stomach, that’s not his promise to make. It’s Eddie’s. And it took Eddie _months_ to let Shannon back into Christopher’s life after she walked out of it, and Shannon was Christopher’s _mother_ , he has no reason—why would Eddie—

“I—I didn’t realize that,” Buck forces out. “Maybe I could come visit Christopher. The lawsuit doesn’t prevent that.”

_Please don’t say no. Please don’t take him away, I’ll do anything, please—_

“No, it just prevents me from reaching out to you,” Eddie says. “I couldn’t even call you to bail me out of jail!”

Buck blinks. Everyone abruptly turns to stare at Eddie.

“If…that was something that happened,” he adds.

“Eddie…”

There’s a crash outside. 

Buck wants to reach for Eddie, grab the back of his shirt and pull him into a random aisle so they can finish talking about this, because okay, Eddie can be pissed, Eddie should be pissed, but there’s a desperate panic in Buck’s chest that something is slipping away from him that he never intended to lose, and he wants to cling to it, to claw it back no matter what it takes.

But. He can’t.

He does send a text though.

_I’m sorry. Call me?_

Eddie doesn’t respond.

And then, his lawyer texts, just two words.

_It’s over._

And Bobby sends him an address, a day, and a time.

It’s weird, walking into the rage room. Buck feels strangely nervous, unsure if he should be there, even though he was invited. An outsider despite the fact that he knows everyone.

Well, except for Lena Bosko. Who, for some reason, keeps giving him knowing looks.

“Um, thank you for inviting me,” he says quietly after catching Bobby in the corner of the room. That still stings the most—Bobby. Bobby’s decision. His lack of faith, of trust, of confidence in Buck. But…maybe this can be an olive branch.

“You’re going to get a call tomorrow,” Bobby says. “You’re being restored to active duty.”

Buck knows he should be relieved. And he is. 

But it’s hollow. 

He glances around at everyone, knowing he has a lot to make up for, that coming back isn’t going to be exactly the same as it would have been. Still.

All he can do is move forward.

He grabs a sledgehammer.

Before they all get started, he looks around again, searching for the one person he didn’t see before.

“Where’s Eddie?” 

Lena is closest and she glances over. “He wasn’t sure if he was coming,” she replies. “Said he had to think about some things.”

Buck’s stomach drops. “Oh.”

The door opens, drawing Lena’s focus—then, she laughs.

“Guess he figured them out though.”

_Eddie._

Of course, the fact that they’re in the same space doesn’t mean they get a chance to talk. And honestly, maybe that’s for the best at first. Buck hadn’t realized quite how cathartic it would be to break a bunch of random shit and none of them are doing much talking.

Then, he goes to the bathroom. And when he’s washing his hands, the door opens again.

“Eddie.”

“Buck.”

Buck’s mouth is dry.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “For Christopher, for how I left that night, I’m really—”

In four strides, Eddie’s closed the distance between the two of them and his mouth is on Buck’s, hot and furious and biting, and Buck doesn’t even mind that it’s rough, wants to drown in it anyway, brings his hands up to curl into Eddie’s shirt—

And then, Eddie’s wrenching away, walking out the door again, and Buck is left alone. Breathless, mouth practically buzzing.

_Well._

_That answered nothing._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, once again, a true team effort. Excuse me, I need to go scream.

Eddie gets several texts from Buck after the rage room.

The first one literally just reads: _!?!?!?_

The next ten all just say: _Eddie_

After that, his patience is kind of at an end, and Buck’s showing no sign of stopping, so he replies. _What._

_Are we going to talk about what happened? Not that I’m complaining, feel free to make out with me anytime. Prefer a bed but random bathrooms work too._

Eddie realizes he’s smiling and forces his mouth into a scowl. Buck can’t just come back and think that everything’s fine, that everything’s going to go back to the way it was. Eddie can barely get his head on straight with how he felt about Buck before this entire mess. He’s stumbling around blindfolded now.

Admittedly, kissing Buck in the bathroom of the rage room was probably not the best way to convey that, but that also wasn’t exactly expected. He hadn’t even been sure he wanted to go at first, had a slightly more seedy invitation from a guy who had seen him at the fight club Lena took him to, but the idea of doing that, especially alone, felt…dangerous. Dark. Like it would be too easy to spiral down, even further out of control, only with something like that he could actually really hurt someone. Or get hurt himself. Not worth the risk.

But he hadn’t planned on kissing Buck. It was just that Buck was _there_ and the last time Eddie had seen him, they’d been arguing in a grocery store, and he was keyed up and confused and Buck looked…good.

And Eddie missed him. So. Yeah. Things happen.

_Eddie?_

It would be petty to not respond, Eddie knows that. But he doesn’t know what to say, and besides, hey, it was petty not to even warn him about the lawsuit, so. Turnabout’s fair play.

He successfully avoids Buck, or as good as, for about a week. All the times Buck comes in to fill out new paperwork for the department, even all the way through Buck’s first shift on Halloween. It’s surprising how easy it is to have no meaningful contact with someone you work with, and if Eddie has a hollow sort of feeling in his chest, well, it’s not the first time and he’s good at ignoring that kind of thing.

Buck catches him at the end of their second shift after Buck’s return.

“Hey.”

Because of course Buck’s not going to let it lie, of course he’s not going to take this just as it is and give up. And okay, fine, maybe Eddie’s been waiting for Buck to push a little, waiting for some indication that this thing between them really does matter given how easy it apparently was for Buck to cut it out of his life.

They’re the only ones around, but it’s been a long shift, and Eddie needs to get home to Christopher. He makes sure Buck can see his entire body sighing as he turns around.

“Yes?”

“How long are we going to do this? You ghosting me?” Buck gestures between the two of them, walks up two steps—but stops just short of coming within arm’s length. “Yell at me in a grocery store, kiss me in a bathroom—kind of getting mixed signals here.”

Eddie glances around. He does not want to do this here, around the second shift, setting the both of them up for gossip.

“I don’t know, Buck, how long were you going to let that lawsuit drag on, huh?”

He turns, knowing Buck will follow, knowing Buck’s going to trot after him. Sure enough, Buck immediately falls into step behind him.

“I didn’t want it to—I just wanted my job back.”

That’s the part that grates—because Eddie doesn’t fault him for that. But Buck could have talked to them, any of them, hell, he could have talked to his fucking union rep. There were options, is the point. Options other than a lawsuit.

“Yeah, you really thought that entire thing through.”

The parking lot is technically public but it’s a lot more private than the station.

“And hey, you want to talk about kissing someone and then ghosting them?” Eddie continues. “What was that shit you pulled at my house, huh? Next thing I know you’re ignoring my calls, you’re not talking to me, and then I hear about the lawsuit.”

They’re at his truck—a very stupid impulse buy that definitely had nothing to do with Shannon’s death or the tsunami or nearly losing Buck twice, thanks—and he turns around, nearly smacks right into Buck in the process. “At least you know why I’m not talking to you.”

Buck swallows. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I was angry.”

“Yeah, you and Bobby, we all figured it out. Here’s an idea—next time you two have a father-son spat, maybe try not taking it out on the rest of us.”

“I thought you knew!” Buck blurts out.

Eddie stares at him. “Knew what?”

“About…” Buck waves his hand. “About Bobby not letting me come back to work. How it was his call. I thought…”

Eddie’s pretty sure his jaw drops open, but it’s hard to tell, seeing as his body goes numb. Yes, they’ve all been worried about Buck, yes, Eddie knows he tried to get Buck to accept his new reality, but he wouldn’t have _intentionally withheld_ —after everything, that’s really what Buck thinks of him?

“Are you fucking serious? You just—what, assumed—and you didn’t even bother asking me?”

_You really thought I would lie to you like that?_

Buck shifts his weight and looks like a puppy that peed on the rug. “I’m—I wasn’t thinking properly.”

“No shit.”

He wants to—he’s so angry, and hurt, and confused, and yet he still, in this stupid soft part of him, wants things to be the same between them, he wants Buck back under his mouth again, under his hands, he wants to show Buck some goddamn—

He slams Buck against the side of the car, their teeth clacking together as they kiss, and Buck makes a noise like he’s been cut free and grabs onto the back of Eddie’s shirt, keeping him close, yanking at him as if it’s physically possible to get Eddie even closer than they already are. Eddie fumbles for the keys, for the door handle, and somehow they find their way inside, Buck underneath him, grinding up against him like he’s going to die if he doesn’t orgasm.

“No.” The word snaps out of Eddie like a rubber band stretched too far and he grabs onto Buck’s hips, shoving him down onto the backseat, stilling him. Buck whines, and the noise shoots straight to Eddie’s cock. Something savage in him feels triumphant.

He grabs Buck’s wrists and shoves his arms above his head.

“Leave them there,” he says before diving back in, kissing Buck sloppy, angry, biting. Buck squirms against him, struggling to keep still as Eddie tongue-fucks him, his hands everywhere.

“If you think being good now’s gonna get you out of this…” Eddie notes, and Buck gasps like he’s dying, fingers digging into the leather seat.

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “No, c’mon, please, whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Dangerous words. Eddie feels like he’s not even quite inside his own head, like he’s half outside of himself.

He reaches down, starts undoing his belt. He wants to fuck Buck so hard, he wants Buck on the edge and fucking crying, he wants…

Buck nods. “Yeah, yes, please, I want whatever you want, Eddie, please.”

There’s nothing but naked obedience in Buck’s voice, his face open, his eyes dark. _He wants to be punished_ , Eddie thinks, and it’s like a sudden bucket of cold water down his spine.

“Red,” he chokes out.

They’ve never had to use the word before. Once or twice he’s checked with Buck and always got ‘green,’ once a ‘yellow’ when Buck’s wrist was aching from gripping the headboard, but never red.

Buck looks like he’s gotten his own bucket of cold water and he sits up as best he can in the cramped space. “Eddie?”

This—this isn’t good. Fuck, this isn’t good. He could do anything to Buck right now, shove Buck past his limits—he wants to do it, and Buck would let him. Buck would never safeword out. He’d let Eddie hurt him, and he wouldn’t say anything, because fuck, Eddie knows this about Buck, Buck beats himself up like nobody’s business. Because Buck would think he deserved it. And maybe that’s even what Buck wants, but Eddie can’t—

He didn’t even want to take his tangled mess of emotions out on a total stranger in a ring, he can’t risk hurting someone he—

Christ, he can barely breathe.

Buck reaches out, tentative, his fingers brushing against Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie.”

He shakes his head. “I—I can’t. We can’t.”

“Okay, okay.” Buck’s at his best when someone else is in a crisis. His hands frame Eddie’s face and he manages to press their foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie doesn’t know if it’s his fault, or Buck’s, or some combination of both. “I… I need to go.”

He needs to get his fucking head on straight, and he needs to not—not be like this.

He backs up out of the truck, letting Buck out after him, and gets in the driver’s seat before he does something even more stupid like kiss Buck again, or blurt out something he can’t take back.

Buck calls him ten minutes later. “I just want to ask if I can see Christopher.”

Eddie pauses, his mouth open even though he has no idea what he was going to say before Buck spoke. “I’ll think about it.”

“I don’t care what shit you and I have to work through. Please—please, let me see him. You don’t even have to be there if you don’t want to. But I gotta make it up to him, please.”

He can’t help but be reminded of Shannon—or rather what Shannon didn’t say and didn’t do. “We’ll talk, okay? But not tonight, Buck. Not—not tonight.”

“Okay.” There’s a pause, like Buck might say something else—but instead the call ends.

* * *

Christopher, to Eddie’s surprise, is still awake when he gets home and goes to check on him. “Hey, buddy, can’t sleep?”

“I wanted to wait for you.” Chris rolls over and smiles, and Eddie’s heart melts all over again. He doesn’t say it out loud every time but he sure fuckin’ thinks it, _thank God for you_.

Eddie sits on the side of the bed, runs his hand through Christopher’s hair. “Well, here I am.” He grins, kisses his cheek. “And somebody has a very busy day at school tomorrow.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you, good guess.” He tucks the blankets up again.

“Dad?”

“Mmm, yeah?”

“Is Buck okay?”

“Of course he is.”

Christopher looks doubtful. “But… he hasn’t been here. And he was hurt really bad at the party.” He rubs at his eyes. “If Buck was… in the hospital again, you would tell me? And we could visit?”

“Oh, buddy, hey, no.” Eddie gathers his son up, hugs him tight. “Buck’s not in the hospital. Of course I’d tell you if he was.” He rubs Christopher’s back. “It’s just been kind of crazy at work. But he asked for you, tonight. He said he wants to see you.”

“Really?” Christopher beams up at him. “Did you tell him I miss him?”

Eddie’s heart feels like it’s cracking in two. Fuck. Christopher asked for Shannon a few times, at first, always sounding guilty about it. Eddie’s parents had never been shy about hiding what Shannon had done, and Christopher wasn’t deaf or an idiot. He could overhear things, put the puzzle pieces together, and he’d known his mom probably wasn’t coming back.

But the moment he mentioned Christopher in the grocery store, Buck’s face caved in. He’d looked shocked and broken. And he’d immediately offered to try and see Christopher. _He’s not a part of the lawsuit._

Then again, tonight, after the sex-that-wasn’t. _Please let me see him. You don’t even have to be there. I gotta make it up to him. Please._

Pleading to see Christopher.

His kid has lost his mom, he’s nearly drowned, he’s had enough trauma.

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” he suggests, laying Christopher back down. “We’ll set up a playdate, okay?”

“Okay.” Christopher pats Eddie’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” More than anything.

He hopes Buck understands that.

* * *

Buck had honestly thought Eddie wouldn’t let him see Chris. Shannon didn’t get to see him for months and she was the kid’s mother, so what chance did he have? And after that disaster in the back of the truck—he’s not blaming Eddie, but when a guy stops the sex and then nearly has a panic attack, well. It’s not a good sign for your relationship, is it?

The next day, though, Eddie comes up to him in the locker room. “You free this weekend?”

“Yeah.” Buck forgets to breathe for a second.

“Christopher wants to see you.” Eddie doesn’t look angry, or upset. He looks… Buck honestly can’t tell how he looks. It’s the first time since possibly they first met that he can’t tell how Eddie’s feeling, and it makes him feel off balance. “I was thinking you could come over, we could do pizza and a movie, keep it low key.”

Buck’s nodding before Eddie can finish the sentence. Yes, God, anything. “Sounds great.”

He chances a smile, and Eddie’s face softens, his eyes warming, before he settles into something more serious again.

“Look, you—you’re on probation, okay? We’re not—we’re friends, and that’s it, but—you can’t—” Eddie breaks off, swallows, starts over. “Look…I’m his parent. I don’t get to take a vacation from that, I can’t choose to walk in and out of his life on a whim. And I know you’re not his parent, but you’re his friend, and you told him you’d be there, and so you can’t just go and do whatever without thinking about that promise, okay?”

 _I could be his parent_. It’s the worst possible thing to say and he’s not quite that stupid but fuck, is he tempted.

“Okay.” He’ll do whatever it takes to earn back Eddie’s trust. Even if it takes months.

Eddie nods, claps him on the shoulder in the most stereotypical bro move in possibly ever, and goes to get his stuff.

Okay, so maybe it’s going too far, but Buck is not going to miss this chance to apologize to Christopher properly. And Christopher fucking loves LEGOs, okay? He doesn’t ever build anything with them but fuck if Buck cares about that. And the new Star Wars set is out, and the last movie they watched together was _Empire Strikes Back_ , so it all works out.

He convinces Maddie to wrap it, since he can’t wrap presents for shit and Maddie got real good at that playing Santa for him when they were kids, and insists on buying the pizza for the night.

Eddie opens the door, takes note of the present hidden behind his back, and looks upwards like he’s praying for patience. “What did you get him.”

“An apology present. Why, sad you didn’t get one?” Buck hands him the pizza and is careful not to let them touch as he moves past. He really, really, really wants to kiss Eddie, but Eddie is obviously working through shit, and Buck isn’t going to press his luck.

“Buck!” Christopher comes over and Buck crouches down to hug him, one armed, present still hidden behind his back.

“Hey, how’s my favorite kid?” Buck ruffles his hair, then cups his cheek so Christopher knows not to pull away. “Hey, buddy—I gotta say something to you. I was really selfish lately and I did something stupid that meant I was really busy and I couldn’t see you. And I didn’t tell you ahead of time, and I should’ve done that. I was thinking about myself and not about you and that was wrong of me.”

“It’s okay.” Bless this kid’s soft, forgiving heart.

“You’re sweet, buddy, but it’s not okay.” Buck shows him the present. “So consider this an apology, because it’s something we have to do together, so that means I gotta be around to help you with it, sound good?”

Christopher nods, grinning at him.

Buck kisses his temple. “I promise. I _promise_. I’m not going to do that again. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Dad says not to make promises unless you can keep them.”

“Your dad’s smart that way.” Buck winks at Eddie, who’s watching them both with an odd, soft look in his eyes. He focuses back on Christopher. “This is a promise I’m gonna keep. You’re my BFF, remember? How could I possibly miss out on that?”

He shakes the present. “You want to open this?”

Christopher nods. “Yes, please.”

“Who taught you those manners? Must’ve been your abuela, you didn’t get that from your dad.”

He picks Christopher up and takes him to the couch so they can open the present, looking over at Eddie again to share in the joke.

Eddie’s still staring at them with that soft expression. It’s… oddly it’s the most terrifying thing Buck’s ever seen. It makes his chest feel huge and empty, cavernous, and he finds himself in danger of crying.

He looks down and away, scared that he’s imagining it, scared that he’s reading too much into it. He has Christopher back in his life, and Eddie as a friend—well, he’s earning Eddie back as a friend—and that’s the most important thing.

Besides, it’s more than he deserves after the shit he pulled.

* * *

Christopher’s fucking ecstatic the entire night, even insisting that Buck tuck him into bed. Buck keeps looking like he might cry every time Christopher hugs him or shows him that he doesn’t hold anything against him—like he thought Christopher might give him the cold shoulder.

Eddie doesn’t know how to explain that Christopher doesn’t have it in him, at least not yet, to do that to someone. It kind of terrifies Eddie, when he thinks about the world they live in, filled with hurtful, selfish people who will take advantage of a kind heart like that. But at the same time, he never wants Christopher to lose that softness. He never wants the world to take that from him.

He should probably let Buck go, now. Let this stick so firmly in the territory of friends, let them only be together when they have work or Christopher as a buffer.

But now that he’s let Buck back in again, he’s remembering how much he missed him. How Buck filled all the cracks of his life.

So he offers him a beer, instead.

“So.” Buck leans back against the counter, his gaze half-lidded the way it gets when he’s teasing. “There’s one question I gotta ask.”

“Oh boy.” Eddie smiles, but he braces for the inevitable question about the other night in the truck. He doesn’t know how to talk about that, how to say _I didn’t trust myself and I didn’t trust you to take care of yourself_.

“You had to be bailed out of jail?”

 _Oh, thank God_. “I got into an argument with some asshole and I punched him. Police were called. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Hmm.” Buck saunters towards him. That’s the only goddamn word for it. His hand is at his waist, toying with his pants, his shoulders are back and open, his head ducked down, looking up through his lashes. “You don’t think that maybe you were throwing punches at the wrong guy?”

Fuck. Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t responding to it. His body has a goddamn Pavlovian response to Buck now, and just because he stopped things the other night doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to sleep with Buck. He does, he _does_ , he just can’t do it when he can’t trust himself to be in control, he can’t use sex as a way to take his anger out on Buck, and he can’t sleep with Buck when he still has Lena’s words ringing in his head. When he doesn’t know what the hell he wants.

Eddie takes a long pull from his beer instead. “Not everything’s about you, Buck.”

Buck shrugs, puts a hand up in defeat.

“Just wanted to make sure.” He pauses. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I don’t know how else to say it, I—”

“I know you are.” That’s evident in every part of Buck’s body language, in his entire being. “And I forgive you. I just… need time.”

Buck nods. Takes a drink of his own beer. “Of course.”

He knows that Buck thinks that Eddie needs time to trust him again. The truth, Eddie’s realizing, is more that he needs time to figure out how to trust himself.

* * *

A couple weeks later, Buck is on his way out when his phone rings.

“Hey, Maddie.”

“Hey! I know it’s last minute, but I was thinking, since it’s Friday and you haven’t hung out with the two of us since that whole lawsuit started…maybe you could come for dinner?”

Buck glances at the clock in the jeep. “Uh…rain check? I have plans tonight.”

“What kind of plans?”

“I’m actually—” Buck winces. “—I’m on my way to Eddie’s.”

Maddie’s silence feels very pointed. As does the slow way she says, “I see. So things are…good with you two then? Back to normal?”

“Maddie…”

“What? I’m your sister, I’m allowed to ask about your friends, aren’t I?”

“A few months ago you were telling me to ask him out, so you’ll have to forgive me for not assuming it’s that innocent a question,” Buck replies.

“Well, a few months ago you were _sleeping_ with him, so…”

Buck sighs and lets his head fall back against the seat. “Yeah, well, that…hasn’t happened for awhile. So. Whatever you thought I should have been doing instead, that’s kind of irrelevant now.”

“Because of the lawsuit?”

“I messed up,” he admits. “With everyone, but especially with Eddie, and I’m—I’m just trying to make up for that right now. When we talked before the party, you and me, in the car, maybe you were right and I didn’t know what he wanted and shouldn’t have assumed. But now? I definitely know what he _doesn’t_ want right now.”

Eddie’s been perfectly clear on that. Hasn’t touched him in any way that could be misconstrued since the night Eddie safeworded in his truck. And that’s…fine. It’s really fine. Buck understands.

Even if sometimes he wants to kiss Eddie so badly he can’t breathe.

But he promised. He promised Christopher he wasn’t going anywhere, so. He’s not going to push. He’s not going to ask Eddie for something Eddie clearly isn’t willing to give, something Eddie probably wouldn’t want even if things were totally fine between them anyway.

“You don’t have to worry about me is all,” Buck adds. “For once, I’m not doing anything stupid.”

“No…you’re not,” Maddie agrees. “But I’m still your sister, so it’s my prerogative to worry anyway. Sorry, not sorry.”

That startles a laugh from him.

“How about next week?” Buck offers. “Buff-Friday, with you, me, and Chim. I won’t even complain if you get those weird sushi burrito things again.”

“Deal.”

* * *

In hindsight, Eddie probably should have expected that Bobby would call him in for a private chat at some point. You can’t just casually admit in front of your boss and all of your coworkers that you were arrested and assume it’ll never be brought up again. And it really would have been too much to hope Buck would be the only one to say anything.

So. He’s not _surprised_ to find himself on the other side of the table from Bobby, but that doesn’t mean he’s any more comfortable because of that.

“It’s not anything to worry about,” Eddie says. “It was only one time, I lost my temper—it won’t happen again. And they dropped the charges so…it’s not a continuing issue.”

“I’m not worried about the incident itself,” Bobby says, watching him carefully. “I’m worried about you. You’ve been through a lot over the past year.”

Eddie looks away. “I haven’t—not really. No more than Chim or you or—”

Buck.

“You moved to a new place, your ex-wife came back into your life, then she died. Buck got his leg crushed by a ladder truck, your son got caught in a tsunami, the lawsuit…”

Bobby’s still looking at him and Eddie shifts uncomfortably and swallows hard.

“Buck’s not…” He doesn’t know how that sentence is supposed to end.

“Eddie.” Bobby’s voice is quiet, his eyes soft and understanding in a way that Eddie can’t even remember getting from his own parents let alone any other authority figure. And it’s—he feels—

For the second time in the year, he lets himself break a little.

He puts his head in his hands and exhales shakily. It’s too much to feel everything at once, there’s a reason he shoves everything down.

“When I came home from my tour, I didn’t have it together,” he admits. “And Shannon left. She left and she mailed me divorce papers and I was upset, but I got it together. I made sure I had it together. And she came back and I let her back into Christopher’s life and…none of it mattered, she still left again.”

“She died,” Bobby says, and Eddie shakes his head.

“She was leaving again before that.” Eddie rubs at his eyes. “I forgave her…for everything. And it still wasn’t enough. And Buck—”

_Fuck._

“Buck isn’t Shannon.”

“I know that,” Eddie replies. “I know he isn’t. But—”

_He only wants one thing from me. And he left too._

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what to think, how to feel, it’s like I’m just…existing. Barely. The only times I feel like I’m doing anything right are here at work or with Christopher. Everything else…” He waves a hand and rakes it through his hair.

He thought he knew what he was doing with Buck at first. Really thought he could keep things separate, be his friend and give him what he needed and keep any…other feelings out of it. But clearly, he failed spectacularly in that, and hadn’t even realized.

What the fuck does that say about him?

“It’s okay to not have it together,” Bobby says. “It’s okay to need help.”

 _It isn’t though_ , Eddie thinks. _It really isn’t._

He swallows again and sniffs.

“Thanks, Cap,” he replies. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

When Buck gets the schedule for December, he immediately notices that they’re scheduled to work Christmas.

His first thought is Christopher.

“You tell him yet?” he asks Eddie the week before when he comes by to drop off his presents.

Eddie sighs. “Yeah, he’s pretty upset. He has a playdate with Denny tomorrow because I promised we could make gingerbread houses, but…yeah.”

“I could come over,” Buck offers. “See if between all of us, we can make him feel better?”

“You’re welcome to try.”

A wheel starts turning in Buck’s head even then, and it only turns faster after Christopher asks if Buck can spend Christmas with him instead.

After all. Buck made a promise.

And it is Christmas. Who turns down a little Christmas miracle?

When they walk into the station to see everyone there, Eddie stops in his tracks.

“Daddy!” Christopher waves, Eddie’s abuela grins, and Buck—

Buck crosses his arms and leans against the wall, watching everything with a small smile. He might be a year late, but, hey. Eddie had invited him to spend Christmas with them last year. And all the planning, all the secrets—it’s all worth it just to see the look on Christopher and Eddie’s faces.

And everyone else too. But Buck can acknowledge, at least to himself, it was really for them.

“Buck! Buck, you have to open your present!” Christopher calls. Buck pushes off the wall then and joins the crowd, kneeling down next to Christopher.

“Well, since it’s Christmas, I suppose you’re right,” he teases. “What’ve you got for me, buddy?”

An hour later, Buck’s walking to grab a clean shirt from the locker room after an unfortunate incident with some cranberry sauce when he’s pulled into a storage closet. Before he can say a word, he’s being kissed.

It’s nothing like the last time in Eddie’s truck, or in the bathroom at the rage room, or when Buck went to Eddie’s house before the lawsuit. It’s soft. Sweet. It makes Buck _ache_.

A soft, desperate noise escapes him before he can stop it, and Buck presses back into the kiss, his hands curling into Eddie’s shirt—clinging, wanting. His mouth opens eagerly when Eddie’s tongue passes along his lower lip, shivering as Eddie licks into his mouth and sucks on his tongue. After another few moments, Eddie pulls back, leaving Buck panting.

“Jesus,” Buck says.

Eddie huffs a laugh, his hands sliding down Buck’s chest. “Sorry,” he replies. “Should have asked.”

“You definitely don’t have to apologize for kissing me like that.”

_I’ve missed you. God, I’ve missed you._

“Thank you. For today,” Eddie says. “I can’t even—what you did—”

Buck’s glad the closet is dark so Eddie can’t see him flush.

“It was nothing really.”

“It was _everything_.”

Eddie leans in and ghosts his mouth across Buck’s again. “Come over tomorrow night. If—if you want.”

Buck inhales sharply. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“…okay.”

* * *

Eddie’s a weak man.

He’s aware of that, now, in a way that he never was before. But _fuck_ , how could he be expected to help himself after that? After Buck arranged for an entire Christmas party at the station so that Eddie could be with his son for the holiday?

Once, Buck mentioned that Christmas wasn’t exactly… a fun thing for him growing up, but Christmas had always been big in Eddie’s family. Not that they’d had much in way of money, but it was still important. Last Christmas, Christopher had gotten his mom. Now, this year, Shannon was gone and his dad had to work…

And Buck had noticed. He’d known. And he’d gone out of his way to make this happen. To make sure that Eddie and Christopher got this important day together.

Fuck, he wants him. He _likes_ him. Possibly more than.

So he kisses Buck in the storage closet.

Buck kisses him back at once, so sweet and eager, like that first bite of good food after being hungry all day, fisting his hands in Eddie’s shirt, and Eddie wants to take him apart again—not out of anger, this time, thank God, but slowly, softly. He wants to—to find some way to thank him, as stupid and sentimental as that sounds.

Of course, he can’t do that if they’re in a supply closet, especially not with coworkers and friends right outside. Nobody will ever let them live it down if they’re caught and he’d rather not scar the dozen or so kids with them.

So he smooths down Buck’s shirt, thinks of dead kittens for a minute to calm himself down, and returns to the party with a promise for tomorrow night.

He’s so fucking _weak_ , and he’s kissing Buck the moment Buck steps through the door.

Buck swears softly under his breath, something unintelligible, and he grabs onto Eddie like he’s going to fall apart if he doesn’t hold on. Eddie’s hands are hungry, sliding up under Buck’s shirt, massaging, trying to re-learn the body he denied himself for weeks. He probably should deny himself, shouldn’t be doing this, not when he knows how deeply he feels, but he can’t stop.

“Chris?” Buck asks, his voice hushed, his lips already red and kiss-swollen.

“Over at Hen’s.” Hen and Karen had wanted to practice for having more kids to handle or something like that, and Eddie’s more than willing to take advantage.

Buck’s eager, almost vibrating at moments, clinging and grabbing, and Eddie has to slow it down. He doesn’t want to rush this. Buck gave his son a proper Christmas, and Eddie wants to reward him, treat him right, give Buck the praise and affection he fucking deserves because Buck gives it away like it’s nothing.

“We got time,” he points out, gently tugging Buck’s shirt up and over his head, wrapping his hand around Buck’s neck to guide him into another kiss. “We don’t have to rush, we have all night.”

He can’t help it, he brushes their noses together, nuzzles in a little, because he knows Buck loves that, and Buck fucking melts. Eddie can feel him smiling into their next kiss. “Okay, okay.”

Eddie smooths his hands up and down Buck’s sides, over his back, up his chest, relishing the jump of the warm muscles underneath his fingers. Buck wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, and he can’t help but shudder everywhere when they press together and he can feel how hard Buck already is. He’s missed this, fuck, he’s missed them together like this.

He reaches up, cups Buck’s jaw, and tugs gently, leading him down the hall, kissing until Eddie’s back hits the opposite wall next to the doorway to his bedroom. Buck whines and tugs at Eddie’s shirt again, a wordless plea to get Eddie undressed, and, well, Eddie’s in a generous mood. He gets his shirt off and presses them together, wraps an arm around Buck’s lower back and hooks his foot around Buck’s ankle, turns them, presses Buck against the wall now, keeps stroking his thumb along Buck’s jaw the entire time.

Buck finally seems to have gotten the memo that they’re going to be less rough than usual, and he gently runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp. “Mmm, miss your longer hair.”

“Really?” Eddie tilts Buck’s chin up, kisses him once, softly, and then moves his mouth down to Buck’s throat. Buck whines when Eddie sucks against his pulse point. “The disappointed pout on your face when you first saw my haircut really gave me no idea.”

“You’re such a shit.”

“Takes one to know one.” He kisses Buck, light, easy, over and over until they’re both grinning and can’t kiss properly anymore.  
Buck’s fingers toy with the snap of Eddie’s jeans, brushing against his lower stomach, teasing and obvious. The look he gives Eddie from under his lashes is nothing short of coquettish.

A chuckle slides out of Eddie before he can stop it, and he tugs Buck away from the wall, pushing him into the bedroom. “Yeah, yeah, I get the memo.”

“Do not make me remind you of how long it’s been,” Buck points out. “I’m just keeping my eyes on the prize.”

 _How long it’s been._ Buck hasn’t been with anyone else. And, well, Eddie’s kind of assumed that since Buck’s stated to anyone who will listen that he doesn’t want to do the one night stand thing again, but you never knew for sure. Buck’s a handsome guy. It would be easy for him to go and find someone else to scratch that itch while the lawsuit was going on, or after Eddie called a halt to things in the truck and then got stuck in his own head. And Buck would probably tell him if he’d been with someone. They’d need to grab condoms again, after all.

But it’s so fucking casual, this easy admission, as if they’ve been on the same page this whole time that if Buck’s not having sex with Eddie, he’s not having sex with anyone, and Eddie—Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that. What does it mean? Does it mean anything at all?

He’s probably reading too much into it. And now he’s up in his head again, instead of in the present moment, where he wants to be, making Buck feel good.

“Take your own pants off, then,” he says, and distracts himself taking off his own clothes before his heart beats any louder or any faster.

Buck hurries to comply. Eddie reaches over and flicks on the bedside lamp. He doesn’t normally care about lighting. They have sex when it fits into their schedule, which means they’ve had it in the late morning after dropping Christopher off at school, in the middle of the afternoon, in the evening, late at night, silent as possible after Christopher’s been tucked into bed. He’s seen Buck in just about every kind of lighting imaginable, both natural and artificial, and he’s fucked him in all kinds of darkness, too.

But he really wants to see Buck right now. Buck’s… Buck’s a lot of things, and Eddie just wants to see it all.

It only takes a palm to Buck’s chest to have Buck crawling backwards onto the bed, lying down on his back. “You’re so well trained,” Eddie jokes, the words coming out dark and husky, and he gets the distinct pleasure of watching Buck’s pupils expand until his eyes look completely black.

“I get lots of positive reinforcement,” he jokes, his voice choked, and he sounds so ridiculously turned on that Eddie has to laugh. Buck smiles in response, looking pleased with himself, and Eddie— _you’re weak, you’re weak, you’re too weak for him_ —can’t not kiss that smile off his face.

It’s the slow, sucking kind of kiss where their lips resist as they pull away, wanting to keep them together, and he gives in to the gravity, dives back in, licks into Buck’s mouth and lowers his body until the world is nothing but the miles of skin between them. Buck spreads his legs, grinds slow and dirty but unhurried, and Eddie revels in being able to take his time and just enjoy the journey of this instead of racing to the finish line.

Buck whines a little as Eddie pulls away, kisses nice and slow and lingering down Buck’s throat and chest. “Shhh,” he soothes. “You mentioned positive reinforcement?”

He works his way down, licks at Buck’s cock, then lower. Buck’s breathing is the kind of deep, heaving breath that he does when he’s focusing on it, trying not to lose control too soon, and Eddie’s blood thrills at it. He’s patient, methodical, using his tongue and his fingers until Buck’s whimpering and pressing back against his mouth, thighs trembling.

 _Do you feel good? Do you feel cared for?_ He’d ask, if it wouldn’t reveal too much. He pulls away once Buck’s sloppy and loose, crawls back up to him, lets Buck see his triumphant smirk.

“How you feeling?” he asks.

“Like I want to be fucked,” Buck replies, sounding cheeky but also desperate.

Eddie has to snort at that. Buck’s shameless, but he’s also adorable, and he’s genuine. Buck never, for even a second, puts on an act in bed. He wants what he wants, and he lets Eddie know it.

…so if he wanted more, he’d let Eddie know about that, too.

Eddie kisses him to ignore that thought. He can think about that later. Right now it would be a shame to waste what’s right in front of him, what he is allowed to have, the simple, easy act of thanking Buck. He can deal with his own messed-up issues later.

He presses Buck’s thigh down and guides himself in slowly, savoring each inch, pressing down, down until his forehead is against Buck’s and he can feel Buck’s harsh panting against his face.

“God, Eddie,” Buck murmurs, and something inside of Eddie nearly breaks, nearly bursts open.

He thrusts inside of Buck instead.

Buck moans, his face going slack, mouth falling open, and that glazed look comes into his eyes, the one that Eddie absolutely loves. He keeps the pace slow, wants to feel every single bit of Buck around him. Buck’s trembling, holding onto Eddie’s arms, and Eddie can’t stop looking at Buck’s face. He just—he can’t even describe what it felt like, being able to spend Christmas with his son, being able to bring a smile to Christopher’s face instead of disappointing him yet again, and to know that Buck did that for him, for them—and he wants Buck to feel something, even a part, of the way Eddie did yesterday.

And he doesn’t know any way, he’s not _good_ at any way, other than this one.

Buck’s a sucker for kissing, not just proper kissing on his mouth but anywhere on his body, and so Eddie obliges him, even though it means he can’t watch every one of Buck’s facial expressions anymore. He kisses his mouth, up his jaw, down his neck, down to his nipples, toying with them, as Buck holds onto him and shakes against Eddie’s thrusts like he might actually be losing his mind.

It feels so good—it always feels so fucking good—and he has to grit his teeth, has to focus on sucking a bruise into Buck’s throat to keep from coming too soon. He doesn’t want to come before Buck does. He wants to make sure Buck gets everything he deserves in thanks.

Buck’s hands move to his back, scratching it up, fingers skittering up and down as he groans and arches into Eddie’s thrusts. Eddie lets Buck use him, would roll them over so Buck could be on top if he thought Buck had any kind of real muscle or motor control left, but he’s just searching blindly for orgasm and fuck, Eddie’s going to give it to him. He realizes, belatedly, that he’s murmuring praise against Buck’s skin, that it’s so instinctual at this point to do it that he doesn’t even have to think about it.

Buck’s a fucking mess, whimpering and desperate, obviously close, and Eddie shifts, pushes up just enough that he can reach down and stroke Buck, keeping his grip tight but his movements slow. “Yeah, that’s it, there you go.”

He keeps it up, just murmuring praise, watching Buck’s heavy-lidded eyes as Buck comes, looking like he’s drinking Eddie in.

Eddie slumps, kisses Buck punch-drunk and filthy, and finally lets himself speed up. He chases that slick knife’s edge, the high lurking in the corners of his eyes, in his bloodstream, and pours every thank you he doesn’t know how to say into Buck’s mouth as he comes.

The smart thing to do, after the truck, would’ve been to take the opportunity and stay away. To maintain the distance that they’d created. But he can’t, God help him he _can’t_ , he wants Buck and he _likes_ him and he feels a bit like he’s back in sixth grade just praying for a smile from the object of his affection, all squirming embarrassed crushing, but fuck, who else is going to make Buck feel good? Who else is going to make Buck feel appreciated? Buck needs praise, he needs to be taken care of, and Eddie can do that. He can do that, at least.

So here they are.

He rolls over so he doesn’t crush Buck and for a moment they breathe together, chests heaving, sweat slowly drying on their bodies. “Is this a…” Buck sounds tentative. “A one-time thing?”

In his mind’s eye, he can see Buck down on one knee, holding a present for Christopher to open, beaming at Christopher like the kid is Buck’s source of sunshine. That was the moment he’d felt his heart stop and had realized… he can’t let this go. He can’t give Buck up.

“If you want it to be.”

“What do you want?” Buck rolls onto his side, props himself up on an elbow, stares at Eddie with a guarded look in his eyes.

 _You don’t want to know what I want from you._ “I want to take a shower. And for you to join me. And I want to—to do this, again.”

Buck glances down, and for a second Eddie thinks he’s going to say no, but then he looks up again. “Okay then.”

Eddie has the absurd urge to ask if they’re still friends, even though he’s the one who’s been calling the shots since Buck’s fuck up with the lawsuit. He swallows it down, and gets up, holding out his hand. “If you hog the shower I’m turning the cold water on you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Buck replies, using Eddie’s hand as leverage to get himself up, and just like that, everything’s normal again. Whatever ‘normal’ means for them.

He weak, but hey, at least he’s self-aware.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again this was truly a team effort. And now, the episode you've all been waiting for...

It sounds too good to be true. Buck barely breathes listening to the doctor, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or another anvil to drop, really. Because he’s been here before, he’s been let down before, but he asks every question he can think of and—

“Mr. Buckley, it is my pleasure to give you a clean bill of health. So get dressed and get out of here,” his doctor says, giving him an easy smile.

And Buck—

He feels like he could fly. Like he could do another ten thousand rescues from the top of a moving fire truck. He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry or dance or scream it from a rooftop, but he feels damn near high just from the knowledge.

Maybe it took close to a year, maybe he thought he would never get better, maybe there was a tsunami and a lawsuit and a whole lot of other bullshit, but he’s _fine_ and all he wants is—

Buck shoves Eddie back through the door the minute Eddie opens it, kissing him deep and messy and playful, nipping at Eddie’s lip when he breaks off before diving back in for more. It’s not anything like that last night before the lawsuit—Buck’s not mad, not stressed, not out of his head, just absolutely fucking _elated_ and he can’t help himself.

Eddie laughs when Buck presses him against the wall.

“Did we have plans?” he asks, but Buck’s enthusiasm must be infectious because Eddie’s grinning when Buck kisses him again.

“No,” Buck acknowledges. “But I had to tell someone and you were closest.”

“This doesn’t seem a whole lot like talking,” Eddie teases, leaning into Buck, pressing up to lick into his mouth.

Buck hums into the kiss and lets it continue for a little longer before pulling back in at least an attempt to not get entirely distracted.

“Guess what?” he says. He’s giddy, a little lightheaded, like his blood has been replaced by champagne, bubbles fizzing everywhere.

“You’ve completely lost your mind?”

Buck bites Eddie’s neck in retaliation.

“Okay, okay—what?”

“Clean bill of health,” Buck replies, his fingers curling around Eddie’s hips as he presses their foreheads together. “No more blood clots, no more scans, no more medications…”

Eddie draws back enough to bring his hand up to Buck’s cheek, his thumb passing lightly over Buck’s lower lip. “You serious?”

“Would I joke about that?”

“Good point.” Eddie looks for a moment like he’s going to say something else, but then he shakes his head and pulls Buck in to kiss him again. “That’s amazing. How do you feel?”

_Like I could do anything._

“I feel…like you’re going to take me to lunch,” Buck jokes.

Eddie laughs again. “Oh, is that how it is?”

“Well, I did all that healing and shit, feels like someone should reward me for it.”

Eddie pushes him back, still chuckling, and walks off, but Buck’s still smiling as he watches him.

“Where are you going?”

Eddie glances back, over his shoulder. “To get my wallet. Get in the car—you’re driving.”

 _Yeah…like I can do anything_ , Buck thinks, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling aimlessly as he goes outside.

It’s not a date. He knows that. But today…today it could be.

Today he can have everything.

After Christmas…the way Eddie touched him, the way Eddie kissed him, the way Eddie looked at him…how could Buck say no? How could he _not_ let things go back to the way they were? So what if he can’t have _everything_ —he can be Eddie’s friend, he can have Christopher, and he can have whatever else Eddie will give him and that’s…that’s enough. It’s _almost_ everything. That’s good enough.

So what if Buck’s breath caught when the random woman they helped yesterday asked him and Eddie if they were single and Eddie just looked over at him? So what if he really wanted to say no, just to see what Eddie would do?

 _Don’t overthink it, Buck_ , he tells himself. 

It’s fine. It’s good. 

Good enough. 

He’s happy.

Happy enough. 

_Don’t overthink it._

* * *

The thing is, Eddie _knows_ he’s an idiot. He knows every time he and Buck go out or Buck comes over, every time they touch or kiss or, hell, spend time with Christopher, he wants more. He wants it to be real. Because Buck—he fits. He fits in Eddie’s life, filling all the empty, dark places, like he wandered in one day and just started throwing open the shutters, letting in air and light and it’s _uncomfortable_ but Eddie almost doesn’t mind.

Because it’s Buck.

“We gonna talk about that?” Carla asks as they walk out of parent-teacher night.

“Talk about what?”

Carla raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “The fact that Miss Pretty Young Thing in there was all smiles and batted eyelashes and you didn’t seem to even notice you were being flirted with?” she proposes.

Eddie rubs at the back of his neck, feeling his face heat. He did notice, is the thing. He noticed that Ms. Flores was gorgeous, he noticed the way she smiled at him, the way she leaned in more the longer the conversation went on. He noticed.

And maybe two years ago, he would have cared more, but…

“I’m not going to ask out one of Christopher’s teachers,” he hedges. 

“Clearly,” Carla replies. “I’m just curious about what’s stopping you. Or rather, who. Because I don’t think it’s Christopher.”

Eddie looks away. “It’s not—I—”

“If you try to tell me again that you and Buck are really just friends who sleep together sometimes because it’s _easier than Tinder_ , boy, I swear.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Because the two of you are making it complicated.”

“We’re not dating,” Eddie insists, and Carla mutters something under her breath that he thinks might be _Lord, give me strength._

“You didn’t look twice at that woman because you don’t think of yourself as single,” she says. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Eddie opens his mouth.

And shuts it.

Carla sighs. “You know, one of these days, something has to give. The in-between thing, the not admitting what you want, the pretending you’re happy with how things are—that’s not sustainable. Eventually, somebody’s gonna get hurt.”

“I would never do anything that might make Christopher—”

She reaches out and squeezes his arm.

“Eddie. I wasn’t talking about Christopher.”

It sticks in his head as they say goodnight, as he drives home. It’s there when Buck calls him at midnight to tell him about dinner at Maddie’s and Buck repeating a casual comment about how single he is sends them diverting into phone sex.

It’s there a week later when Buck builds Christopher an accessible skateboard and Eddie is so overwhelmed that he can’t even speak and spends the next two hours expressing how much he appreciates it in every other way he can think of. 

And it’s there in the park. When it’s the two of them and Christopher and Eddie is fully aware of the weight of Carla’s eyes watching them all together and can’t even mind that because it just feels so…right.

But.

He doesn’t know how to say it. Too afraid, too unsure, too out of practice. The sex is easy. Everything else…

 _Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. So if you love her, tell her_ , Eddie tells Chimney, and feels like a damn hypocrite for the rest of the day because who the hell is he to be giving advice like that?

_Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone._

He didn’t expect the universe to feel the need to remind him exactly how true that statement is.

* * *

Something in Buck dies.

Thirty feet of mud falls on top of Eddie and something in Buck is ripped apart, then and there, no chance of resuscitation.

_No. Eddie, no!_

He dives for the hole—for the spot where the hole _was_ —and he’s clawing at the ground before he even realizes what he’s doing.

Someone’s screaming. Someone’s screaming like their loved one’s been shot in front of them, terror and despair and pain, and it’s not until Bobby grabs onto him that he realizes the person screaming is him.

He can’t stop. He just—he can’t stop. Eddie’s down there, he’s buried, and if they don’t get him out—they need to get him out now, now now _now_ , why is everyone so calm, how does nobody—

“Buck.” Bobby’s holding him, and his voice is heavy as if he knows, as if he could possibly know, what Buck is feeling. “Buck, hey, Buck, come on.”

Come on? How is he supposed to _come on?_ Eddie cut his rope, like a hero, like a fucking idiot, he cut his rope and now he’s stuck down there and he’s buried, and it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was supposed to be easy to get the kid out, and Eddie was supposed to be fine…

In a feat of surprising strength, Bobby hauls him to his feet and yanks him away. Buck yanks right back—he can’t leave, they have to dig him out, they have to—

_Eddie—_

Hen grabs his other side and together she and Bobby quite literally drag him into the house.

“Wash up,” Bobby orders, and he’s shoved into the restroom.

Buck scrubs his hands and face as ordered. He’s shaking the entire time. Eddie’s down there. Every second they waste up here is a second Eddie can’t afford to lose. He can’t—he won’t—lose Eddie. He’ll lose Eddie to a girlfriend or boyfriend, he’ll lose Eddie to a fight, he’ll lose Eddie to anything but not this, not fucking this.

“Cap!” He jumps down the last few stairs to reach Bobby. “We gotta go dig.” They have to start now. Shovels, backhoes, hands, whatever the fuck they have to.

“We don’t have a drill, Buck,” Bobby replies, exiting the house. “And even if we could get another one up here, the access road is flooded.”

How can he sound so matter of fact, so calm? What if it was Athena trapped down there? Bobby wouldn’t be so goddamn calm about it then. How dare he be composed for this.

“Then we dig by hand,” he insists. He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“Not with all this rain, it’ll just trigger another collapse.” Chimney’s calm too, how is everyone so fucking calm and logical!? How is everyone okay with this, why do they all sound so okay with this!? Eddie is _down there_ and they’re just—

“How long can he last down there?”

The other fire chief looks at him incredulously. “We’re talking thirty feet of wet earth coming right down on top of him.”

Buck can’t feel his heart. Or his legs. He can’t feel anything.

He looks around—looks at Chim, at Bobby, and realizes—he realizes now why they’re all so matter of fact. So logical. _No._

“Wait, you all think he’s dead.” He can’t—no. Betrayal stinks in his nose, coats his tongue.

“Nobody thinks that,” Bobby says immediately. Buck knows that tone. He’s an idiot but he’s not fucking dumb and he knows that voice, it’s the one Bobby uses on spouses when their partner’s bleeding out and there’s nothing to be done and he’s just trying to keep them calm until… until…

“We just don’t know how to get him out,” Chimney explains.

“Nobody’s giving up on him,” Hen says, stepping forward. And Hen—she has the voice she gets when she’s not losing a patient. When she does CPR for fifteen minutes straight and somehow, someway, the patient makes it. “Nobody. We’re gonna find him.”

Buck looks at her. At Chimney. At Bobby. Sees something terrifying in their faces: knowledge. They know, they _know_. The secret’s out—his painful, bleeding secret.

That’s fine by him. They’re allowed to know it. What they’re not allowed to do is give up on Eddie. They can know whatever they want, and they can pity him however they like, just so long as they get Eddie back.

He gives Bobby a warning look—he has no idea what exactly his face looks like, his face doesn’t feel like his own, nothing of his body feels like his—and he storms past.

He will dig until he bleeds, if that’s what it takes.

* * *

Eddie’s first thought is, _Am I dead?_

It takes a long moment to orient himself—he’s been in and out of his head since Christopher brought his medal into the station, caught between reality and memory, bogged down, chest tight. And now, everything around him is dark, the only potential light source his flashlight, and the shadows are closing in.

He’s trapped. Pinned down, no way out—

Absurdly, he thinks he can hear gunshots.

Eddie shivers. Then, he fumbles for the radio.

“It’s Diaz,” he says into it, even his tongue reverting on instinct to the familiarity of the last time he was stuck like this. “Can anybody hear me?”

_Trapped, trapped, trapped, nobody’s coming—_

He can’t breathe. The panic is like a vise around his lungs as his brain comes back online just enough to unhelpfully remind him that he can’t have more than a couple hours of oxygen even before accounting for the fact that the cavernous pocket he’s stuck in is slowly filling with water. 

“I’m still alive down here!” Eddie shouts into the radio.

Nothing. Nothing but silence.

_I’m going to die down here._

His stomach turns—he puts his head between his knees. 

_Fuck._

Eddie tries to tell himself that they have to be looking for him, they have to be trying—right? Even if only so Buck can kill Eddie himself. He knew, after he cut the line, that Buck would let him have it when he got back. He knew it was stupid. But…it was instinct. He wasn’t thinking when he did it, he just knew he had to save Chris—

Hayden. The little boy’s name was Hayden.

Eddie shivers again.

Christopher is at home. Christopher is with Carla. Christopher is probably going to get woken up in the middle of the night by Buck or Bobby or a random police officer and have to be told—

It hasn’t even been a year since Shannon. And someone is going to have to tell him—

_Don’t drag him down with you, Edmundo._

_I fail that kid every day._

_What if, for a little while, we try new things together, okay?_

_Dad says not to make promises unless you can keep them._

It should be Buck, Eddie thinks. Buck should tell Christopher. Which isn’t fair, Eddie knows, because it’s not Buck’s responsibility, but it just—it shouldn’t be a stranger. Christopher loves Buck. And Buck—Buck makes everything better. Buck makes everything seem like it’s going to be okay. 

It should be Buck.

Buck…

Eddie sits up and rubs at his forehead with the back of his wrist. He could almost laugh at the irony if the situation wasn’t so fucking bleak.

Because he loves Buck. He loves him. And he never said—

“I love him.” Eddie says it just to say it. Just to admit it, for once, out loud. 

There’s no one to hear him down here.

At his side, the radio crackles—Eddie’s heart leaps.

“Hello? Hello? Guys, I’m here—I’m alive—I’m—”

Nothing.

But…it wakes him up. If he’s going to die, he’s going to do it while trying to live, not by sitting here and giving up. 

Eddie looks around, looks at the small hole where the water seems to be coming from…

He’s trapped down a well. 

It’s gotta lead somewhere, right?

And he has a life and a kid to get home to.

Eddie takes a shaky breath. Steadies himself.

And then he starts to dig.

* * *

Buck still can’t feel his body.

“Okay,” Bobby announces. “Listen up.”

Some wild part of him wonders, if it were possible, if he could swap places with Eddie—put him thirty feet underground and Eddie up here. Sure, why the fuck not. He’s dead already. He can’t feel his body.

“Buck here is gonna get some thermal cams.”

It’s a stupid plan, a barely-there plan, held together with duct tape and spit, and Bobby knows it. They all know it. They’re trying it anyway, and Buck tries to tell himself that’s what counts, but he can’t fucking feel anything, he can’t even fucking see what’s in front of his face. His eyes are filled with mud.

“We are going to fan out and do a grid search.”

How can that possibly work, calm and methodical, fucking thermal cams, they need to dig, they need to dig, they need—he can’t feel—

“Chimney is going to have oxygen tanks and warming blankets standing by.”

Next to him, Hen presses against his side. As if she can read his mind. As if she knows that everything has shut down, that he’s running on some kind of autopilot from deep inside of him that knows only one task. He feels like a robot.

He can’t feel Hen.

“I wanna start at the well, and go outward in concentric circles.”

“LAPD copters are on their way. We’ll use their thermal imaging to scan this wider area.”

Eddie’s been down there too long. They’re all standing around taking orders and Eddie’s been down there too long. Buck doesn’t know how he’s still standing, why he isn’t tearing wildly at the ground, or collapsing. Maybe it has something to do with his heart not beating.

“Try to pick up Diaz’s heat signature.”

Eddie hates to be called Diaz. He won’t respond to it. He’s not Diaz. He’s Eddie. He’s _Eddie_.

“Won’t be easy.”

Buck feels his heart beat and it’s so painful he feels it spike through his entire body. For a second, he’s not sure—he thinks he might have almost imagined it—but then Bobby says Eddie’s name and he knows, he _knows_ it’s real.

He doesn’t even recognize the sound that comes out of his mouth and he bolts, as Eddie makes a quip about it being pretty cold down there, as Eddie stumbles, collapses like a rag doll, as he grabs onto him—he’s never felt more alive and he’s also never felt more out of his body in his entire life.

They haul Eddie to his feet and—fuck, he’s cold, and heavy, soaked, his gaze dead, he looks like a fucking zombie and Buck wants to claw Eddie to him and hold him and never let go, not for anything in the goddamn world. Eddie’s mouth is dropped open, breathing hard, heaving, and Buck’s legs go cold realizing it’s because Eddie was holding his breath, Eddie was swimming underwater for God knows how long.

“Hey.” He tries to get Eddie to meet his gaze. “Hey, hey, hey.”

He can’t stop, he can’t fucking stop, Eddie just swam underwater, he just clawed he way up out of his own fucking grave and Buck needs to look into his eyes and make sure he’s all right. Sure, all right, everyone else is going to make sure his vitals are fine, but they don’t know Eddie, they won’t know if he’s _okay_.

Eddie’s hand flails in the air and Buck grabs it, squeezes tight. When his leg was crushed, all he could feel was Eddie’s hand. He still can’t quite remember those moments. He tries to remember, and he feels bits of it, but his mind’s mostly blocked it out and frankly, he’s fine with that. But he does remember squeezing Eddie’s hand.

It’s the least he can do to hold on and return the favor.

“We’re going to get you home,” someone, possibly Hen, says, and Eddie gives a wheeze that’s the worst attempt at a laugh Buck’s ever heard.

“Yeah. I got a date on Friday.” In spite of it all, Eddie smiles. “Can’t miss it.”

Buck smiles so that he doesn’t burst into fucking tears.

* * *

Buck doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand in the ambulance. And Eddie doesn’t even consider asking him to. He knows how close he came to not making it, can still feel the phantom sensation of frigid water in his throat, in his nose—even now, he can’t stop shivering. But he’s alive. He’s safe now. 

Buck’s holding his hand. 

At the hospital, Eddie’s tucked into a bed with blankets, poked and prodded and given an IV.

“They’re going to keep me overnight, aren’t they?” He sighs.

“You’re the paramedic—what do you think?” Buck shoots back. There’s no heat in it though, and his thumb passes absently over Eddie’s knuckles. Soothing.

“I’m fine. Just need a hot shower and my own bed and I’ll be good as new.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll have to forgive me if I wait to hear your doctor say that after your scans come back.”

Eddie swallows hard. It’s…overwhelming. The whole day has been overwhelming—he hasn’t even been put through the wringer, he’s been put through and spat out and run over by a truck, that’s what it feels like. And he wants Buck here, aches with it, but now that he’s had a few minutes, he also needs to think, needs to breathe, just needs…a little bit of time.

“Can you do something for me?” he asks.

“Depends on what it is,” Buck replies. “I’m not sure how much I trust your judgment after today.”

Eddie looks down at their hands. Wets his lips.

“Can you go spend the night at my house? I, um—sometimes, Christopher waits up for me, and I know Carla is with him, but I—” It gets caught in his throat. _I thought I was never going to see him again and if I can’t go home, you’re the next best thing._

Eddie clears his throat and rubs at his eyes with his free hand. “—I don’t want him to be scared.” 

“Do you want me to—I could bring him here,” Buck offers, but Eddie shakes his head.

“If you do that he’ll think it’s worse than it is.”

Buck looks away. His jaw tics. “You were trapped under at least thirty feet of mud. You almost died. It _was_ bad, Eddie.”

_I know._

“Please,” he says quietly. Buck sniffs, looks up to the ceiling, chews his lip. His eyes are red.

“Yeah, okay,” Buck finally replies. “Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.”

When Buck leaves, Eddie slips down further under the blankets. His hand is cold.

“I can’t believe he let you convince him to leave,” Bobby says from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “I thought he was going to sit here all night.”

“I played the Christopher card,” Eddie admits. 

“Ah.” Bobby crosses the room and settles into the seat Buck vacated. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I almost died.” Eddie wets his lips again. “You gonna yell at me for cutting that line?”

Bobby hums. “Do you need me to?”

“No.”

“Good. And for what it’s worth…Buck told me to give you more time. To trust you. I didn’t listen. Not that any of that excuses you being an idiot, but…I’m sorry, too.”

They lapse into silence when a nurse comes in to check Eddie’s vitals. When she leaves, Bobby clears his throat.

“So…I’ve been trying not to interfere, but…”

Eddie blows out a breath.

_Buck._

“You know, the last time I was in a relationship, I ran away,” he says, looking off to the side, staring at nothing. It feels too difficult to look at Bobby. “Shannon got pregnant, I got scared, and I ran. And then Christopher got sick and I stayed away even longer. I only came back because I got shot three times and all I could think about for months was the guy who died in that raid. He had kids too, but he knew his—they knew him, they loved him, and sometimes I still wonder why I was the guy who got to come home.”

“Eddie…”

“I turned it around,” Eddie acknowledges. “I made Christopher my whole life, because he deserves that, he deserves his dad, he deserves to be happy—”

“You deserve to be happy, too,” Bobby interrupts.

Eddie rubs his hands over his face. 

_It’s okay to need help,_ Bobby had said those months ago. Maybe…maybe it’s time to ask for it.

“I’ve spent…a really long time believing that I don’t.”

There’s a pause—a long one—and then Bobby sighs.

“You know, I learned a lot of things by being an addict,” he says, and it’s so far from anything Eddie expected that he blinks and looks over.

“Like what?”

Bobby shrugs. “Like…you can be addicted to a lot of things that no one ever acknowledges as a problem because they aren’t drugs or alcohol. But they do the same things—make you get attached, make you afraid to let go of them, weigh you down and prevent you from forming connections, building relationships, living the life you want. One of the biggest things like that? Guilt.”

Eddie looks away again.

“Hey.” Bobby covers Eddie’s hand with his. “You ran away from your family? So did I. But I ran to pills and alcohol, and my family died—I didn’t get a chance to make it up to them. And yes, I will carry that for the rest of my life, but I moved forward anyway. I married an amazing woman and I am _living_ my life instead of just standing still and wallowing in my mistakes. Eddie…you’re already an incredible father. Whatever mistakes you made in the past—those don’t mean you don’t get to have a future. And if you want one with him, you have to tell him.”

“I—” Eddie swallows. “I don’t want to fuck it up. I can’t be the reason Christopher loses somebody else if things go wrong—”

“That’s an excuse,” Bobby says. “And a bad one because I can tell just from watching the two of you over the past few months that Buck would move mountains to make a relationship with your son work no matter what. I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”

Eddie is quiet and Bobby nods.

“Like I said…the guilt, the self-loathing…it’s comfortable. A hell of a lot more comfortable than taking a risk and walking out on a limb. But, Eddie—take it from me—the risk is worth it.”

“…I’ll think about it.”

He’ll try.

* * *

Christopher is understandably worried when Buck tells him his dad can’t come home that night. The poor kid’s been through a lot, and Buck pulls out all the stops convincing him that it’s just going to be a fun sleepover, the two of them, and why doesn’t Christopher pick out some books for Buck to read him?

Carla’s face is somber as she hugs him goodbye. “How is he, really?”

“He…” Buck hasn’t let himself cry this whole time and suddenly it’s like he can’t stop. He has to press his hand to his mouth to keep noise from escaping. Christopher can’t hear, Christopher has to be convinced that everything’s fine.

Carla helpfully hands him some tissues from her purse.

“It was bad,” he admits at last. “He nearly… fuck. But he’s okay now. I think he just needs some fluids and rest. They’re keeping him overnight to monitor him. They were, uh, worried about pneumonia. But it was—a fucking miracle he made it.”

“News was covering it,” Carla admits. “I didn’t have the TV on but I was checking my phone. In case…”

Yeah. In case.

Buck blows his nose. His throat feels raw. “Yeah. Um. He wanted me here, I wanted to stay but—he didn’t want Chris to be—y’know.”

 _I love him and he almost died. I love him and I love his kid and I almost had to tell him his father died._ He wouldn’t have let anyone else do that. Buck’s not one to toot his own horn when it comes to his importance in Christopher’s life but he would never have let some random police officer break the news. It would’ve had to be him. His father’s friend, Christopher’s friend, someone Chris trusts.

_I love him and that was the worst fucking night of my life._

He tries to say more, but nothing comes out. Carla hugs him, lets him bury his face into her shoulder, until they hear Christopher and he has to pull back and compose himself. “Yeah, buddy?”

“I picked out books!”

“Great, be right there!” He holds up the tissues. “Thanks for… um, you know.”

“Anytime.” Carla pauses. Looks like she might say something else. Shakes her head. “He’ll be right as rain in the morning, Buck. He’s a fighter.”

Buck sure fucking hopes so.

He reads books with Christopher, doing voices to make him laugh, until Christopher falls asleep, his head on Buck’s shoulder.

Fuck. This kid, this _kid_. He deserves a good father, and he has one, and even if Buck wasn’t in love with Eddie, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep Eddie alive and safe just for Christopher’s sake. Please, please can this be the last time Chris has to nearly lose someone. Please can the kid get a fucking break.

He starts to slide out, to put the books down and tiptoe out, except Christopher wakes up, reaches for him. “Buck.”

“I’m here.” He crouches right back down. “I’m right here, buddy.”

“Can you stay?”

Buck’s heart feels like it’s collapsing. “Of course I can.”

He’s been there a few times before, for Christopher’s nightmares after the tsunami. Those moments when Eddie would come out of the bedroom and say, “he wants you,” Buck had felt both broken and honored—realizing he was a safe place for Christopher, that he was the one Christopher needed to feel okay.

But before, Eddie was there.

Now, Eddie’s not here, he’s in the hospital, he nearly died, and Buck just wants to break into pieces. But he can’t. He’s got Christopher. So he stuffs that all down, and holds Christopher, and feels like he’s holding his own heart in his hands.

He doesn’t really sleep.

It’s a school day tomorrow, so he helps Christopher get ready and packs his lunch and gets him onto the bus, all without incident, and all while resisting the painful urge to call the hospital or Bobby and make sure Eddie’s okay. His phone rings and he nearly bangs his elbow on the wall yanking it out of his pocket, heart racing.

It’s just Maddie.

“Chim told me what happened,” she says the moment he hits the talk button. “Evan, are you okay?”

He walks into the kitchen and starts cleaning up the breakfast dishes, cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder, just to give himself something to do. “I’m… I’m pretty…” Words fail him. He swallows hard and tries again. “I tried to dig him out.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“I tried to dig him out, with my—just my hands. I don’t think I even—I don’t know what I was thinking. Bobby had to—fuck.”

Something slams in the distance and it takes him a second to register that it’s a door.

“Did you tell him?” Maddie asks. “Eddie, I mean, did you tell him…”

Buck doesn’t hear the rest of what she says because Eddie’s just walked into the room.

“Evan?” Maddie’s voice echoes, tinny, over the phone line as Buck stares at him. “Evan, honey, you there?”

“I’m gonna have to call you back,” he croaks, and he hangs up, the phone slipping from his fingers and onto the kitchen counter.

Eddie still looks tired, but he no longer looks like he just dug himself out of his own grave, he no longer looks like death incarnate—

“Bobby gave me a ride back he—” Eddie starts to say, and that’s as far as he gets, because somehow Buck’s made it across the room and he’s got Eddie’s face in his hands and he’s kissing him.

Eddie makes a noise, startled or relieved, Buck’s not sure, but he’s kissing him back and that’s all that matters.

He claws frantically at Eddie’s clothes, wanting them off, hungry for Eddie’s skin, to reassure himself of Eddie’s warmth. He wants to taste Eddie’s pulse on his tongue, he wants to feel Eddie’s heartbeat instead of his own. He wants to warm Eddie up, make it so Eddie never shivers like that again, he’s never cold like that again. He wants to press himself in and in and in until he’s given Eddie all of his blood and oxygen and strength so that Eddie is invincible, Eddie will never be in danger, Eddie can’t ever die.

Neither of them says anything, but somehow they coordinate enough to stumble to Eddie’s bedroom, clothes thrown to the side. His hands roam over Eddie’s back, his sides, his arms, greedy, starving, and Eddie lets him, Eddie presses closer and draws Buck’s tongue into his mouth and only lets Buck stop kissing him long enough for them to inhale before he’s devouring Buck all over again.

Yes. Devour him. He wants to be consumed.

He grabs the lube, nearly drops it because he’s blind and fumbling, and presses Eddie down into the pillows. It’s rare that they do it like this, Eddie catching, but God, he just wants to take care of Eddie, he wants Eddie to feel so goddamn valued he never even thinks about doing something so reckless with his life ever again, he never even thinks about dying because he knows that he’s valued, he knows that there’s something good waiting for him. Besides, out of the two of them, the one who spent the night in the hospital should not be the one doing the work right now.

Eddie doesn’t fight him as Buck kisses every bit of skin he can possibly get his mouth on and works Eddie open, although he does seem a little surprised with the lavishing attention.

Buck doesn’t care if he’s surprised. He just cares that Eddie is okay.

He tries to move lower, to kiss at Eddie’s stomach, his hipbone, but he only succeeds for a moment before Eddie yanks him back up with a hand around the back of his neck, like he doesn’t want Buck to be too far away from him, and fuck, Buck’s entirely on board with that. Eddie’s grip on him is tight, tight, tight and Buck hopes there are bruises, he wants marks, he wants to be _imprinted_.

Buck sits up, pulling Eddie with him, and Eddie gets the message, straddling him and sinking down onto him. Buck’s hands slide up the span of Eddie’s back, feeling the play of muscle underneath, how they bunch up and shift, the pure feeling of life. They’re chest to chest, pressed up everywhere, Eddie’s arms are around him, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. He’s still begging to get closer, nuzzling into Eddie’s neck, thrusting erratically, still desperate.

He keeps waiting for Eddie to pull back and tell him it’s okay, for Eddie to reassure him, but all that Eddie does is kiss him, cling to him, and when Buck starts to taste salt he can’t tell which of them it’s coming from.

It feels good, God it feels good, but the sex is almost less about chasing the high and more about the release of tension, less about any orgasm and more about just getting to be as close to Eddie as it’s humanly possible for him to be. He wants to crawl inside, he wants to be consumed and hold and be held and he just—he just never wants to be separated from Eddie again.

Eddie’s hands are everywhere, running through his hair, scratching down his back, gripping Buck’s shoulders and using him for leverage to work himself up and down on Buck’s cock, and Buck just wants to fucking melt. He sucks at Eddie’s pulse point, feels the jump of it under his lips, and shudders all over. Eddie’s warm, he’s so warm, Buck wants to make him even warmer, he wants Eddie to never be cold again—

Eddie tugs on Buck’s hair, tilting his face up to lick into his mouth again. His fingers are splayed across Buck’s face, warm and grounding, safe. Eddie almost stops moving on top of him and they both seem to slow down, time going slow and sticky like molasses, kissing soft and deep as Eddie’s thumb strokes right at the corner of Buck’s mouth.

God, he never wants to leave this moment.

He wants Eddie to feel good, he wants to look after Eddie the way Eddie always looks after him, so he wraps his arm around Eddie’s lower back to keep them steady as he strokes Eddie, their foreheads pressed together, watching as Eddie’s eyes go black and his mouth falls open.

Eddie wraps his hand around Buck’s neck, presses his thumb up underneath Buck’s chin until Buck tilts his head up, and kisses him, pressing himself all the way down until Buck’s completely inside of him, clenching, creating a fucking vice, and Buck’s fucking dizzy. He bites on Eddie’s lip, shakes, and he knows he’s crying as he comes but Eddie doesn’t say anything, he just presses his mouth over and over to Buck’s cheeks, his forehead, his jaw.

Their chests are heaving, and Eddie seems to collapse, his head falling to Buck’s shoulder. Buck tucks his face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie smells vaguely like the hospital, but mostly just like himself, and Buck can’t help but keep planting small kisses along the curve of his shoulder. It’s like after a scene, when he’s skin hungry and just wants to be comforted and can’t stop himself from touching and kissing, except this isn’t the come down from the high of an exhausting sexual session, this is something else entirely.

He can’t possibly disguise why he’s kissing Eddie, why he’s holding him, why he’s acting like this. And he waits, and waits, and waits for it to get awkward, for Eddie to crack some joke or tell him they need to talk—but Eddie doesn’t say anything. He just holds Buck tightly and kisses him back.

Eventually, Eddie does reach for the tissues. They’re starting to get kind of tacky, after all.

“I got Christopher to school.” He has no idea why he says that. But Eddie was worried about Chris, he made Buck go look after him, so he’ll want to know that he was taken care of.

Eddie tosses the tissues away and looks over at him. “Is—how’d he take it?”

“He was fine. He needed me to sleep with him but that was it. No nightmares.”

Eddie nods. Buck’s throat feels dry. He can’t disguise what just happened, and how he was feeling. He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Do you—want a shower? Breakfast?”

Eddie gives him an odd look. Eddie’s been giving him a lot of odd looks lately, like when he first saw the skateboard. “I’d really just like to sleep. Hospital beds are shit.”

Oh. Okay. Well. Buck can leave him to…

Eddie grabs his wrist and tugs him in until Buck has no choice but to follow, to sprawl out under the covers. Eddie drapes an arm around him and coaxes Buck to tuck his face into Eddie’s neck—as if he knows this is the spot where Buck goes to feel safe, to feel grounded.

He feels like Eddie’s trying to tell him something. Or maybe Eddie’s just tired and Buck’s being an idiot because he’s exhausted and he’s been running on pure terror for the past however many hours and is just now coming down from it.

Eddie’s fingers interlock with his, and Buck doesn’t even think about it—he squeezes, instinctively.

Eddie squeezes back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to believe we're really here! This is the last full chapter. The next one will be an epilogue. XOXOXO to all of you for your wonderful comments and support, we've had an absolute blast!

What’s the saying? Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery?

Okay. Eddie can admit it. Bobby was right—he’s spent so long being comfortable with guilt, with self-loathing, with not being good enough, that he doesn’t know how to shed those things and move forward. Step One, accomplished.

It’s what comes next that’s difficult.

Eddie catches Bobby alone in the kitchen on his first shift after the well.

“So…how did you deal with it?” He asks. “Letting go of it all.”

Bobby glances up from the carrots he’s chopping and sets his knife aside, giving Eddie a long, considering look. Eddie thinks he might be trying not to smile.

“I talk to my priest a lot. That seems to help.”

Eddie winces. Yeah, no, he’ll go to church on Christmas and Easter if he’s guilted into it by his abuela, but he’s not going to willingly confide in a priest any time soon.

“That’s…not going to work for me. Any other suggestions?”

“I do,” Bobby acknowledges. “His name is Frank. He’s one of the department’s therapists.”

Well…he asked.

“You think I need therapy?”

“We’re first responders, Eddie. We could all use some.”

The idea of sitting on a couch and opening up to a total stranger makes Eddie want to throw up. But.

He also really, _really_ wants to get better. After the morning he came home from the hospital, after the way Buck touched him, after the way they were together…Eddie wants that. He wants that every damn day. He wants to stop being afraid.

Fuck it—it’s worth a shot.

“Okay. Give me the number.”

Hell, it’s still better than a priest.

Eddie almost bails after the first session. And then again after the second. And the third. But eventually, it gets easier. He starts realizing he actually feels better afterwards, and there’s something…safe…about Frank. About the space. Eddie can say whatever he feels, can explain things in whatever way makes sense to him, and doesn’t have to worry about being judged or put down.

So…he keeps going. He makes progress.

And he stops sleeping with Buck.

Oh, Eddie still kisses him—they’ll kiss, they’ll touch—but Eddie wants to _date_ Buck. He wants to show Buck that he doesn’t just want sex, even while he’s still trying to figure out how to tell Buck how he feels. So they have lunches, they have dinners, they take Christopher out for ice cream, they go to the movies—

They date. And okay, maybe Eddie doesn’t _tell_ Buck that’s what they’re doing, but…baby steps.

Sometimes, he slips a little though.

“Fuck,” Buck breathes, his head falling back as Eddie slides one hand down the front of Buck’s pants. They’re in the storage closet at the station again, and Eddie would normally avoid that, but Buck just had to be a big damn hero and almost die pulling off a rope rescue and Eddie couldn’t help himself. They haven’t even showered yet—Buck’s skin still tastes like smoke and sweat—but Eddie doesn’t care. Quick and dirty suits him just fine for reminding himself that Buck is still alive.

Buck chokes and drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder as Eddie strokes him the way he likes, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. When Eddie bites his neck, Buck shudders and spills into his hand.

“Jesus—can’t tell if you’re mad at me for the rope rescue or if you thought it was hot.”

Both? Both.

Eddie pulls his hand out of Buck’s pants and kisses him slick and filthy before stepping back.

“I need a shower,” he says, deliberately sidestepping a real response. “See you in the locker room.”

Buck’s breathless laughter follows him out of the closet.

* * *

Buck doesn’t really expect to end the shift alone. Admittedly, he knew Christopher was going to have a sleepover soon, but hadn’t realized the exact date. And everyone else…he doesn’t blame Hen for wanting to spend time with Karen, or Chim for wanting to see Maddie after a long, difficult shift, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting to be left by himself.

Part of him is half-tempted to take Eddie up on his offer to help chaperone Christopher’s sleepover, but the rest of him feels like he needs the break. Because Eddie is…confusing. Ever since the morning after Eddie left the hospital, they haven’t really had sex. But they’re still…intimate…in other ways, so he’s pretty sure Eddie isn’t trying to end that piece of their relationship without saying anything. Especially when Eddie _looks_ at him sometimes in a way that makes Buck’s heart squeeze painfully.

Hell, if he didn’t know better, he would say he’s being…wooed? But Eddie isn’t—Eddie wouldn’t—right?

So.

Buck is confused.

When he meets Red at the bar, at first it’s a distraction. Buck’s an extrovert, he can socialize easily—it takes nothing out of him to spend the night chatting with an old, retired, firefighter. In fact, it’s a good distraction.

But it’s also disquieting. Like he’s looking into a mirror, looking into the future, seeing what he’s going to be in thirty years.

Alone.

Sure, Buck has friends, but so did Red. He had Abby, but she left. He had Ali, and she couldn’t handle the job. And Eddie—Buck doesn’t know what the fuck Eddie is anymore, but he knows he can’t assume Eddie will stick around.

Nobody ever has before.

Red haunts him for the rest of the week. And then, he dies, and Buck—

Buck goes to Maddie’s to fall apart.

“You’re not Red, Evan,” she says, sitting across the table and covering his hand with hers. “You’re not alone. If for no other reason than that you have me. And I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

Buck feels about five years old, when he tears up and asks, “Do you promise?”

But Maddie just nods and they pinky swear and Buck manages to laugh for the first time all evening.

They crash on the couch after that, putting on old movies the way they used to when they were kids, and Maddie strokes Buck’s hair when his head ends up in her lap. Neither of them are really watching though, and that’s only confirmed when Maddie speaks.

“So…is that why you won’t commit to Eddie? Because you’re afraid he’ll leave?”

Buck closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at anything, focusing on the soothing feeling of her fingers against his scalp.

“It’s…complicated.”

“Explain it to me then.”

Buck sighs. He keeps his eyes closed.

“You know, with Abby…I thought I did everything right. Or mostly right at least. I was her friend first, I got to know her—hell, I was half in love with her before I even knew what she looked like—and after…I didn’t want anyone else. I thought I was _done_ , I didn’t even want to _look_ at anyone else for the rest of my life.”

There’s a reason he hasn’t talked about Abby or their relationship with any sort of specificity since they ended things. Doing so now is like scraping at a scab, picking until it bleeds. Nearly two years since she left and it still hurts.

That’s probably kind of pathetic.

“You know, uh, when things got really bad with her mom, I thought I wasn’t ready for something that complicated, I thought I couldn’t handle it. But when she gave me an out…I didn’t take it. I stepped up, I wanted to be there for her, I wanted to show her she didn’t have to do it all alone, I wanted—”

_I wanted to give her everything._

Buck clears his throat. “I would have given her…anything. I turned myself upside down and inside out and I _stepped up_ , I was _there_. I thought I did everything right. And it wasn’t enough. _I_ wasn’t enough.”

_I’m never enough._

“Evan…Eddie isn’t Abby,” Maddie says quietly.

“Yeah, but—” Buck swipes a hand over his face and laughs. It’s bitter. “I’ve been doing everything wrong with Eddie from the very beginning. We did everything backwards—Jesus, I blew him in the showers at the end of our first shift together. It took him two months to even kiss me and I _still_ —fuck. I did everything right with Abby and she left. So why the fuck would Eddie want to stay when I’ve been a fuck-up from the start?”

“Evan—”

“I can _live_ with this, Maddie,” Buck insists. “I can live with being his friend, I can live with being the guy he fucks sometimes, I can live with that. Because what I _can’t_ live with is asking for more and losing not only him, but Christopher. I can’t lose that kid, I just—I can’t.”

Maddie’s hand stills in his hair. The next moment, she’s pushing him to sit up—Buck makes a face, but he goes, opening his eyes to finally look at her once he’s settled.

“I know I haven’t been around,” she says. “I know I left, I know we’re still not past that, and despite the fact that I’ve tried to have this conversation before, I do actually know I don’t have a right to judge your life or your choices. But, Evan—”

She shakes her head. “Eddie _looks_ at you. Looks at you like you’re…magic. Looks _for_ you when you’re not around like he doesn’t know what to do with himself if you aren’t in the room. And when he watches you with Christopher—Evan, he looks at you like you’re his _partner_. Not his friend. Not his fuckbuddy. He looks at you like he loves you.”

Buck’s heart is in his throat and his lungs feel like they’ve dropped somewhere around his knees. He feels entirely disconnected from his body because it just doesn’t make _sense_.

“He doesn’t—”

“Did he ever tell you that he spent the night at your bedside after the ladder truck?”

“…what?”

“The whole night,” Maddie replies. “He sat next to your hospital bed and held your hand and fell asleep that way. I woke him up the second time I came in the next morning—the first time, I saw him like that, so I left again to get a second cup of coffee for him. Seemed like the polite thing to do.”

Buck swallows hard. That—Eddie never said—

“We’re friends.” It’s like he’s swallowed glass. Hope hurts worse than anything else.

“He’s in love with you. And everyone knows that except for you.”

“Why hasn’t he said anything then?”

Maddie rolls her eyes. “Is it so hard to believe he might be as afraid as you?”

Buck bites his tongue to hold back the bitter, _what would he have to be afraid of_ , that threatens to spill out. Eddie is gorgeous, Eddie is kind, Eddie is an amazing father and an amazing person and he could have _anyone_ if he wanted. _Eddie_ , afraid of rejection? Especially when Buck knows he’s been obvious enough about how he feels—he’s been assuming Eddie’s just been politely ignoring the way Buck feels like he’s been bleeding _I love you, I want you, I need you, please_ out of every pore.

“Well,” he says instead, “if he really feels that way, he can be the one to say it.”

He’s really fucking tired of walking out on limbs only for them to crack. He’s tired of being the one who falls.

He’s tired of getting hurt.

Maddie hums and wraps her arm around Buck’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. “Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

Buck wants to laugh. _I doubt it._

“Sure. Maybe.”

* * *

“What are you worried about?” Frank asks in their next session. “Say you started a relationship tomorrow—first thing that comes to mind.”

Eddie stares up at the ceiling and wets his lips.

“Christopher.”

“What about Christopher?”

“The disruption,” Eddie says. “I don’t want to yank the rug out from under him. That’s not fair—to just throw something new at him and expect him to adjust. He’s already been through so much in the last year.”

“Okay. Then why not talk to him first?”

Eddie blinks and looks over at Frank. “Talk to him…about dating?”

“It’s not uncommon. Single parenthood is full of challenges, and dating is one of them. Communicating with Christopher about what you’re thinking, how you feel—if you’re worried about him being blindsided by changes, the only way to prevent that is to keep him in the loop before they happen.”

“But I don’t know for sure that they _will_ happen.” Buck could say no, Buck could decide he doesn’t want anything to change, Buck could walk—

Eddie cuts that thought off. Buck’s not just going to leave, he reminds himself. If for no other reason than that he promised Christopher. And Eddie trusts that, he trusts Buck, because Buck is _good_.

Frank gives him the look that says he’s unimpressed with Eddie’s nonsense.

“Well, unless you’re planning to never date for the rest of your life, you’re going to have to broach the subject eventually,” he points out. “Might as well be now.”

Fair.

_Talk to him._

It takes a few more days for Eddie to work up to it, but finally, the day after Athena gets hurt, he finally steels himself.

“Okay, let me see those teeth,” he says, sitting on the edge of Christopher’s bed. Christopher grins and Eddie can’t help a smile himself. “Very nice.”

Eddie looks down at the bedspread and fingers a stray thread. “Hey, buddy, I, um…I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Christopher tips his head to the side. “Camp?”

Eddie bites his cheek and shakes his head. “No, no. It’s, uh, it’s about me. And Buck maybe.”

“Buck?”

“Yeah.” Eddie takes a breath and looks up, reaching out to cover one of Christopher’s hands with his. “You know…when your mom came back, we weren’t together anymore. And I was okay with that, because I have you and I love you so much. But I was also…um…”

“You were sad,” Christopher says, and Eddie’s breath catches.

“Why do you say that, buddy?” He asks. Christopher shrugs.

“You didn’t used to smile so much. But then you met Buck.”

Jesus Christ, he has an observant kid.

Eddie nods. “You’re right, I was—I was a little sad. And Buck makes me really happy. So what I wanted to ask you, is how you would feel if…Buck and I decided to be more than friends.”

“Like with kissing and stuff?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah. Like with kissing and stuff.”

Christopher looks thoughtful and slides down a bit more under the covers. “But he would still be here?”

“Of course, buddy. We’re both—we love you so much, okay? And nothing is going to change that.”

Silence, then—

“Okay.”

“Yeah? That would be okay?”

Christopher yawns, but when it finishes he gives Eddie a sleepy smile. “I want you to be happy too, daddy.”

Eddie’s eyes blur and he leans in, pressing a kiss to Christopher’s hair as relief floods through him.

“God love you, kid.”

_God love you._

* * *

Buck just wants this night to be over.

He feels—he feels like he’s at that point in the flu where he’s bypassed the nausea and is just lying on the bed feeling dead inside. Abby’s back. Abby’s _back_ and she’s getting _married_ and he can’t even—

They get back to the station at some ungodly hour, he doesn’t even know, and Buck heads right for the showers. He wants to scrub and scrub and scrub as if he can somehow wipe his memory clean, go back to earlier today when he was in an actual good fucking mood.

He should’ve known that Eddie would follow him.

Eddie’s not exactly been all that subtle about his frustrations with Buck this evening. And he knows that he’s hasn’t exactly been doing a bang-up job of hiding his own emotions. He’s been a hell of a mess but fuck, can he talk about this later? Can he please just—he just wants to not think about the fact that the first person he ever fell in love with, the person he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with, is back and getting married to someone else.

It’s just a real fun reminder that he’s not good enough.

“Buck.”

He steps into the stall, ignoring Eddie and turning the water on. He’s pretty sure that Eddie’s not going to give up, neither of them are the type to avoid poking at a bruise, but he at least wants it clear that he’s not up for this.

Sure enough, Eddie grasps him by the shoulder, turns him around. “You want to tell me what all that was tonight?”

“No.” Buck shrugs him off and grabs the soap.

Eddie does that thing, tilting his head until Buck’s forced to make eye contact with him. Fuck. Buck hates himself right now, hates that he’s so soft and weak for Eddie, that he can’t keep up his walls and just crumbles in front of him.

“You acted like she was just another ex. But she wasn’t.”

“No, she wasn’t.” He looks up to the ceiling, tries to remember what breathing feels like. “She was the first—the only real—relationship I’ve ever had. I—I fell hard, and I did everything, absolutely—because she was, is, amazing, and I was trying and she, um.”

He really doesn’t want to be talking about this right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eddie asks, and oh, fuck, he sounds hurt. “Why—”

He looks away, shakes his head, runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “You never said what she—what she was to you. You—you know about Shannon, about—”

“What was I supposed to say?” Buck’s felt all night like someone’s opened his chest and left his organs out for everyone to see, and now Eddie’s rooting around in it with his bare hands. “It was over, it was done, I didn’t want to talk about it, I just wanted to—”

“Find a rebound?” Eddie’s looking at him again, his voice and gaze sharp.

“Oh, like you were looking for someone to hold candlelit dinners with?” he snaps back. “You didn’t even kiss me for however long—you’re not exactly an open book yourself.”

“How serious was it?” Eddie asks.

“I don’t know, and that was part of the problem.” Buck puts the soap down because he’s clearly not getting any actual showering done right now. “I sure thought it was. But it doesn’t matter, it’s over—”

“It doesn’t matter?” Eddie looks like he might strangle him. “You were willing to let an entire train crush you to save her fiancé, you were not thinking clearly—don’t you fuckin’ dare tell me it doesn’t matter and that it’s over.”

There’s the sound of the door opening, someone starting to enter, and then the sound of footsteps retreating and the door closing again.

Buck wants to smack himself.

“You’re a good man, Buck,” Eddie says, his voice strained. “And God knows you’re fucking reckless. But that was not you being a good person and that wasn’t you being reckless. I know you, okay, I’m your best friend, don’t you try and fucking lie to me and act like that was just you being you. You were ready to throw your life away, and for what? For someone who abandoned you?”

“Abby isn’t Shannon, okay?” It bursts out of him, angry and clawed and spiny, and he wishes he could take it back the second he says it but it’s too late.

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it, and then nods as if to say _well fuck you too then_. “Right. Sorry I asked.”

He turns, takes two steps away—then turns back. “You know, you’re right, I’m not a fucking open book. But I’m trying, okay? I’m really trying. Do you have any idea what—I have fucked up, and I’m trying to be better, and I’m—I’m going to therapy, Buck, Jesus Christ, and I think chewing my own arm off would be easier but I’m going anyway and it’s because—”

Eddie’s eyes go a bit wide and he snaps his mouth shut, traps whatever words were about to leap out, and shakes his head. “Forget it. The point is I’m not going to be your punching bag just because I’m here. I’m not the one you’re mad at and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

He takes a step forward, getting right into Buck’s face. “Because you’re not getting rid of me, asshole. Get that through your head. Yeah, Abby isn’t Shannon—but I’m not Abby either, and I’m not any of the other people you’re thinking of, and you’re going to tell me about this because you’re _hurting_ , and I’m not going to let you hurt alone.”

It’s almost too much to look into Eddie’s face, to look at the expression that’s on there. It’s like looking into the sun, blinding and burning, and his eyes water and he has to look away, words tumbling out of his mouth one after the other like raindrops racing down a windowpane.

“She didn’t just—her mom was sick, okay? She was sick and Abby had to spend all of her time taking care of her and then she died and Abby—she needed to—to go and actually live her life. So she did that. And I said I’d wait for her, she let me promise that I would wait for her, let me kiss her goodbye at the fucking airport, and then she just—she just never came home.”

His eyes sting and he would literally rather drown in this shower than have this talk right now but he can’t let someone else leave. Abby he had no choice in it, she just left, but he feels like Eddie just threw the ball into his side of the court, and if Eddie leaves now, it’s because of what Buck said. Or didn’t say.

Buck feels so fucking raw and there’s nowhere to hide, literally or figuratively, and he doesn’t know if he wants to run away or beg Eddie to hug him. They’re naked in the goddamn showers, which is also where they started this entire mess between them, and the irony makes him so sick he could gag on it.

“She never came back,” he repeats. “And Maddie came—and she needed me, and I said she’d be safe, and she took one fucking look—my sister took one look and she knew Abby wasn’t coming back, and I felt so pathetic. Like, was I not worth a proper break up? I told her it was over, _I_ did that. And I can’t help but feel like, fuck, like if I hadn’t said anything she would’ve just let me keep on waiting for months and months and months.”

Eddie makes a soothing noise and brings his hand up, wraps it around the back of Buck’s head, scratches lightly.

“She has a fiancé.” A bitter, hysterical laugh bubbles up out of his throat. “I was in love with her, and she had to know, she had to have known, and she just left and made me end it and she got engaged and she never told me anything. And there’s this part of me that—when I saw her—it was like, all over again—if I just do enough, if I just do it right, you’ll see how good I am and you’ll want me. Not that—I don’t want her like that anymore, even, I’m not in love with her _now_ , but I still couldn’t help it.”

He’s loyal to the point of stupidity, it’s lodged somewhere in his DNA, and he can’t stop himself. He’s like a pathetic dog still eager to fetch his owner’s shoes even when the owner’s forgotten to feed him for three days.

“I’m sure she’s a great person,” Eddie says, his voice low. “But she wasn’t that great if she couldn’t appreciate you.”

The last part of him crumbles at that and he follows the press of Eddie’s palm, the pull of his hand, collapsing until his face is buried in Eddie’s shoulder and he can close his eyes and hold on and fall apart.

 _I’m not that great. There wasn’t anything for Abby to appreciate._ The words sit heavy on his tongue but he suspects if he says that, Eddie’s going to read him the riot act, and he feels flayed alive and all he wants is this, Eddie gently combing his fingers through Buck’s hair, his arm anchoring around Buck’s lower back.

It feels, somehow, like the most intimate thing they’ve ever done. In spite of all the sex they’ve had. They’re naked, exposed, and just holding each other—and under normal circumstances he’d be getting hard, definitely, but right now he just wants to be as close as he can, to feel held, supported, instead of the one doing the supporting all the time.

Eddie pulls back, just enough to press their foreheads together. Buck breathes him in.

“You probably think I’m an idiot.” His hands stop a hair’s breadth from Eddie’s face, unsure if he’s allowed to touch. “Shannon came back and you weren’t—you didn’t—”

Eddie takes Buck’s wrists and presses Buck’s hands to his face. “Shannon divorced me. She gave me an answer, even if it was delayed. It’s different. Buck… sometimes we do everything right and it isn’t enough. And it says a lot more about someone else and what they need than it does about you.”

A weak chuckle escapes him. “All that therapy is really working wonders, huh?”

“You should try it sometime.” Eddie’s voice is light, but Buck can tell he’s serious. His hand moves down to Buck’s arm, his thumb stroking the line of Buck’s tattoo.

Maybe he should. It’s clear, between Maddie and now Eddie, that he’s got some really fucking deep-seated issues he’s gotta talk about.

“I feel like—I feel—” Fuck, _words_. “I feel like I can’t be angry at her. Like it’s not allowed. Because she wasn’t—but I _am_.”

“Well I’m not gonna let you pull that shit on me, but you’re allowed to be angry.” Eddie’s gaze draws up Buck’s frame to his hair, then he grabs the soap. “Here.”

 _He looks at you like he loves you,_ Maddie told him. Buck hadn’t seen it. It didn’t make sense. How could Eddie choose him, Eddie, who could have anyone he wanted—who could have that cute teacher who’d flirted with him (and oh, yes, Buck had felt way too much glee finding out that Eddie had bitten her head off about the skateboard incident, but he would forgive Eddie over something like that, Eddie hadn’t lost all his chances with her, Buck’s sure)—why would he choose Buck? And if he did, why wasn’t Buck seeing it?

But now, as Eddie lets Buck throw shit at him and stays, as he washes the dirt and grime off Buck’s skin, as he calls him out but still _holds_ him—Buck’s feeling like the sharp stabbing shards in his throat are softening, like sea glass, the edges made smooth by the tide.

“Y’know,” Eddie comments, gently shoving Buck under the water to rinse him off, “you owe Bobby an apology.”

“Yeah, thanks for ratting me out back there.”

“You deserved it, you brat.” The corner of Eddie’s mouth is curled upwards, fond and soft. “He wasn’t talking about Athena. He was talking about you. He cares about you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I know a concerned father when I see one.”

Buck blinks rapidly and has to look away again. His own dad is—anyway. And Bobby’s—well. It’s just hard, sometimes. To remember—to feel—like he’s cared about. It’s so much easier just to assume people don’t. Care, that is.

“I just wish…” Eddie shakes his head. “I knew she was your ex, man, I just wish you’d told me how badly she broke your heart.”

_Not like you’ll break mine if I’m wrong to hope._

Whatever damage Abby did, whatever bruises she left on him, it’ll be nothing compared to the way he’ll bleed if Eddie doesn’t love him back.

“It was easier to bury it.” Buck shrugs. “You put yourself out there, you give everything, and then…”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment. Almost like someone’s shown him how to do a difficult math equation, given him that one trick that puts it all into perspective.

Then he kisses him—and it feels, somehow, like a first kiss. Soft, tentative, a message behind it.

“Are you two finished with your crisis?” Chimney’s voice echoes off the tiled walls. “Because some of us want to get home sometime in the next century and all my toiletries are in there.”

Buck groans.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Eddie warns him. He pokes Buck in the chest. “We’re talking more about this.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for couple’s therapy,” Buck grumbles.

He doesn’t even think about the implications of the joke, not until it’s already slipped out—but Eddie just turns away with a pleased little smirk on his face.

“Yeah, Chim, c’mon in,” Buck calls, as the pieces of sea glass settle into his stomach, as they start to feel like seeds, taking root, growing—as the hope stops hurting and starts to feel real.

* * *

Eddie’s going to tell him.

At the train derailment, meeting Abby—Eddie didn’t know what to do. He had to keep doing his job, of course, had to be a professional, but he also couldn’t help but keep watching Buck. They don’t make promises in their line of work, but Buck made Abby a promise and Eddie—

He came so close to snapping in the field. To just shaking Buck right there in the middle of a train car, in front of Bobby and God and everyone and telling him, _you’re not allowed to risk your life like that, you absolute bastard—not when I’m right fucking here_. But it was easier to let Bobby pull rank at that moment. So. He didn’t.

And then later, at the station—Eddie wanted so fucking badly to tell Buck then as well, but that would’ve been—he also didn’t want to dump that on Buck while Buck was so raw and hurting.

But he wants to tell him. He _needs_ to tell him.

This whole time—this whole time he’s wondered why Buck never said anything, assuming that Buck would’ve spoken up if he felt—but now, after meeting Abby, after hearing the full story, he understands better. Buck gave and gave and gave, and it made Buck a better person, it helped to make Buck who he is today, but it was a shitty way it ended and he can’t blame Buck for being reluctant to try and tell someone again—especially when Eddie fucked it up so much along the way, when he was holding back affection, keeping himself safe, trying to—

He gets it, is all. He understands now.

But now, Buck’s off to go talk to her, and Eddie’s pacing up and down like a madman in solitary trying to figure out how to say it.

Is it too soon? Should he wait a few more days, give Buck some time to digest… Abby requested to meet him and it sounds like she was always planning on meeting him anyway, and Eddie sure fuckin’ hopes she’s apologizing up one side and down the other, but either way Buck’s gotta feel raw about it. Should he—May’s party is in a couple days, he could—

On the other hand, it’s building up inside of him like a hurricane and if he doesn’t tell Buck soon he’s going to lose his entire fucking mind. He’s been working through it with Frank, and he thinks he’s in a good place—or a better place, anyway—and fuck, it feels like he’s about to blurt it out every time he so much as looks at Buck.

And the kiss in the shower, the way Eddie can feel himself staring, the way he touches him, Buck has to at least have figured some of it out, right? He doesn’t want this to turn into stringing Buck along, he doesn’t want to be an asshole in a completely different way.

He glances at the clock. Buck said he’d stop by after the talk but it’s been over an hour and…

His phone buzzes. _Ten minutes out, traffic’s shit._

Eddie lets out a slow breath. He hasn’t felt this nervous since… probably since moving to LA. He’d felt in his gut that it was the right thing to do but that hadn’t stopped him from feeling almost sick with worry that he’d made the wrong choice.

This feels the same way.

He has to tell Buck. He has to say something. They’re rapidly approaching a breaking point—or maybe they’ve been at one for awhile. But once it’s out in the air there’s no taking it back.

The front door opens—he left it unlocked and he gave Buck a key weeks ago just in case—and then Buck’s calling out. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, in the living room.”

Buck looks exhausted when he enters. Not like he’s been up for days—more like someone’s taken a weight off his shoulders and he’s only just now realizing how heavy it was.

“Hey.” Eddie walks over—it’s instinct to pull Buck in and hug him, and Buck goes, loose and easy, wraps his arms around Eddie’s back and digs his fingers in.

“You okay?”

Buck sighs with his entire body. “Yeah. I think I—I needed to hear that. And now I can…”

He pulls back, his hands resting on Eddie’s hips. “This whole time I felt like I was the best version of myself with her, because she changed me, and I think now I’m—it may have been because of her, because I wanted to be better, but she wasn’t—she didn’t take the best of me when she left. Does that—does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” He drags his thumb up and down the back of Buck’s neck, watches as Buck’s eyes slide closed. “You want to get something to eat, or…?”

Buck shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just want—”

He cuts himself off, his eyes opening, looking up at Eddie same as he did before, in the kitchen, in the showers that first time—over and over he looks at Eddie like this, only it’s not inherently sexual, it’s more like—like he’s putting himself in Eddie’s hands.

Eddie desperately wants to be worthy of him.

_Come on, Eddie, just fucking say it._

A lump forms in his throat and he has to swallow a few times. “You asked—the other night, after Abby got into the ambulance with Sam. You asked, ‘what’s next’, and I…”

His heart isn’t so much beating as shuddering, trembling. “I’m asking—what about me?”

Buck stares at him, an odd light in his eyes.

Fuck. Now that he’s started, he can’t go back. He can only move forward. “Can I—can I be what’s next, for you?”

“Eddie.” Buck looks like he might fall to pieces, like a stiff breeze could knock him over. “You don’t—are you—”

“Am I sure?” He could laugh, honestly. “Why, what do you think? That I don’t know you? That I’m gonna be disappointed? I know you, Buck. I _see_ you. You’re a fucking mess and you don’t think before you speak or act and you’ve got a massive hero complex and you drive me insane and you’ll—you’ll give to the people you love until you’re literally bleeding to death.”

Somehow, at some point, he’s grabbed two fistfuls of Buck’s shirt in his hands. Buck’s gripping his wrists, eyes rimmed red, like he’s going to drift away and drown if he lets go.

Eddie presses their foreheads together. “You’re what I needed. And I want—if we’re being honest, we’ve been doing this the entire time. You _fit_ and we work, we fucking work, and I want to stop—pretending that—I want to be fucking honest about what we are and what you mean to me because you mean the fucking world and I want—”

He slides his hands up to Buck’s face and Buck makes that small, wounded noise. He’s trembling and Eddie wants to stop and kiss him until it’s better, until Buck’s pliant and reassured, but he has to get this out or he’s never gonna fucking say it.

“I want to keep this, with you. I don’t want to lose you because I was scared, or because I was fucking stupid and hurt, I don’t—”

Buck makes a noise like he’s breaking and he surges forward, kissing Eddie within an inch of his life.

He holds on for all he’s worth, kissing back, feeling such relief that he can’t even articulate it.

“I didn’t want to assume—” Buck swallows, shakes his head.

“Yeah, me neither.” Eddie feels so fucking light inside, and he only realizes he’s grinning when his face starts to hurt.

Buck’s hands clench in the back of his shirt, like he still has residual nerves, and Eddie kisses him again, soft as he can. He never has to hide how soft he is for Buck, he can kiss him whenever he wants, he doesn’t have to hold himself back or second guess anymore. He feels almost fucking high with it.

“Maddie told me, y’know,” Buck blurts out. “She said that you—but I didn’t think you could—fuck. I—you make me really fucking happy,” he finally says, as if that’s all he can manage to get out.

Eddie loves him so much it feels like it’s leaking out of him from every pore, every crack in him forced wide open, the light of it, the truth of it spilling out. He kisses it into his mouth again and again, _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ and he knows there’s still more for them to talk about but it suddenly doesn’t matter, it can wait, the most important part is out of the way. He loves Buck and Buck knows it and Buck’s _happy_ about it and that feels like the only important thing in the goddamn world.

* * *

The party is in full swing when Buck bounces in. He’s nervous, but in a good kind of way—it’s not like he thinks he’s going to get a negative response or anything, it’s just the first time he’ll be saying it out loud, the first time they’ll be in public since their messy mutual confession and he’s flying a little high on endorphins but whatever, it’s fine. He’s spent the last two days at Eddie’s and he’s pretty sure he’s gotten so much serotonin and oxytocin that he’s permanently altered the state of his brain. He made pancakes this morning, he’s humming “Walking on Sunshine,” he’s doing fantastic.

“Oh my God, stop smiling, you’re making me sick,” Maddie teases him, hugging him hello.

“Everything’s making you sick lately,” Buck points out.

Eddie carries Christopher in and sets him down on the couch where Denny and Harry are hanging out, walking over. “What is that thing?”

Maddie winces. “It’s supposed to be a firepit.”

Eddie’s hand slides into Buck’s back pocket as he gives Maddie an incredulous look. “Glad to know that’s what it’s _supposed_ to be.”

Maddie’s eyes gleam and Buck knows that she’s noticed Eddie’s behavior. “So, Chimney told me you two had an interesting few days.”

“Yeah, so…”

“Oh my God.” Chim sounds horrified. “No. Absolutely not.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise as Chim storms over and points at the both of them. “You couldn’t have waited a week?”

“Hand it over,” Hen says, grinning like a fucking lunatic. “Rules are rules.”

“Shut your face, Hen—there are details—” Chim looks back at them. “Which one of you made the move, that’s important.”

Buck’s starting to put some pieces together. “Wait. Are you—was there a bet about us?”

“Bobby got disqualified for giving Eddie a pep talk in the hospital,” Athena says, and what the hell, how is everyone popping up out of nowhere? “But I do believe I’m still owed twenty bucks if Eddie said something first because I placed my bet before Bobby—”

“I didn’t bet because I’m your sister and I love you,” Maddie says staunchly.

“I promised I’d split my winnings with her,” Chim immediately reveals.

“Snitch!” Maddie’s mouth drops open in betrayal.

“And here I was hoping that we could be casual about this,” Buck mumbles.

“C’mon.” Eddie hooks a finger around his belt loop and tugs. “Let’s do the photo booth.”

It’s reassuring, though, if a bit embarrassing to know that everyone knew for so long that there was an entire betting pool on them. Behind them he can hear Karen protesting to Chimney that _you didn’t even know they were sleeping together until the well_ and he grins easy and relaxed at Eddie, who’s shaking his head in rueful amusement.

Despite everyone’s initial fuss, though, it’s… it’s easy, it’s natural, to just be here with Eddie and everyone as—well, as a couple. To smile when he meets the parents of some of May’s friends and say, “Oh, yeah, that’s my boyfriend, Eddie.” To goof off in the photo booth and help Christopher sign May’s poster. To let Eddie pull him in when they’re all dancing, hands firm and warm on Buck’s hips, and hold on loose and easy because he doesn’t have to hold too tight. He doesn’t have to fear Eddie will pull away.

They already were this. Eddie was right, Maddie was right (and she’s never going to let him live it down). They were already together, already a family. He just doesn’t have to hold back, now. Neither of them do. And it’s like he’s finally getting to breathe.

He does have one thing he has to do, though.

Bobby’s out on the patio, surveying everything, smiling, soft in a way he rarely is on duty.

“Hey.” Buck clears his throat. “Um… I just wanted to apologize. For—for the train.”

Bobby shakes his head in that way of his that means _don’t mention it_.

“Look, it’s all right, we both got a little hot.” Bobby pauses. Smiles knowingly. “You doing okay?”

He looks over at where Eddie’s dancing with Christopher, making a complete fool of himself and not caring because it’s making his son smile, and Buck feels warmth spread through him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

Bobby follows his gaze and nudges him, and that’s all the encouragement Buck needs to go back in and join.


	13. Chapter 13

Eddie is beyond amused by the fact that Buck is more upset about this summer camp thing than he is.

It’s actually helpful, it puts it all into perspective. Christopher deserves to try being away from home, camp will be educational and a lot of fun, and if he does get homesick, Eddie can drive and get him at any time, even if it’s two in the morning. And it’s only two weeks. There’s no need for him to be upset.

Buck still cries the morning Christopher has to leave. He does it in the shower, like that’ll somehow hide it from Eddie, and he hugs Christopher for a good ten seconds longer than usual, but he’s relatively composed all things considered. There’s a reason Buck’s not accompanying them to the bus, after all. Christopher makes him a card, showing the three of them holding hands and telling Buck to have fun while he’s gone, and Eddie has to politely remind his boyfriend that they’re going to be late when Buck hugs Christopher again and shows absolutely no sign of letting the kid out of his grasp any time soon.

So when he gets back, Buck is—to nobody’s surprise—still being a little mopey. It’s adorable. Eddie’s used to the highs and lows of parenting at this point—or as used to them as any parent can ever be—but this is still new to Buck.

“I think you’re going to miss him way more than he’ll miss us,” Eddie points out, walking into the living room where Buck’s lounging on the sofa like a Victorian maiden who caught the vapors.

“Like you weren’t nervous about this whole thing,” Buck shoots back.

“Y’know, I think you’re missing a very important part of this whole thing.” He takes Buck’s wrists and pulls him to his feet.

“And what’s that?”

Eddie slides his hands up underneath Buck’s shirt, grips his sides, strokes Buck’s warm skin with his thumbs. Buck shivers, and Eddie revels all over again in the fact that he can do this without any guilt, without compartmentalizing, without giving himself any excuses.

“We’re all alone for two weeks.” He moves his hands up to Buck’s chest, drags a thumb across Buck’s nipple, making Buck grab onto Eddie’s shoulders like he’ll literally fall over otherwise. “No interruptions… no need to be quiet…”

He really is going to miss his son, but holy shit, he cannot wait to see just how loud Buck can be, how much delicious begging and moaning he can wring out of him.

Buck’s starting to get on board, his hands moving around and down to toy with Eddie’s waistband, his lips parted, his eyes dark and gaze heavy. Eddie grins, drags his hands back down Buck’s chest, and then steps back.

“But, y’know, if you don’t want to—we totally can just sit around and be sad—”

“Fuck you,” Buck blurts out, sounding both delighted and pissed off. He reaches for Eddie, tries to pull him back in, and Eddie darts out of his reach.

“No, no, I agree, this is all very sad, definitely, I should just leave you to—” The rest of his sentence is cut off as Buck manages to reel him in and kisses him, licking right in, and Eddie’s laughing so hard that their teeth clack together.

“You’re a little shit,” Buck mumbles, but he says it right in between one kiss and the next so Eddie’s not really feeling the sting.

“We can write him letters,” he points out, yanking Buck’s shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere. It doesn’t matter where he tosses it right now because there’s no kid around to find it. “Make him a care package.”

“Yeah, we can—oh God.” Buck’s sentence rapidly changes trajectory as Eddie licks and sucks at his collarbone.

He pushes Buck backwards until they fall onto the couch, Eddie on top, one hand braced on the cushions and the other splayed over Buck’s stomach. Buck’s making the little gasps he usually does, but noises are starting to leak into them as Eddie begins to slowly make his way down Buck’s chest, as if he’s realizing more and more that he doesn’t have to hold himself back, he can just let go and be into it.

And oh, he’s going to be into this. Eddie has _plans_. He’s got an empty house and hours to spare and he’s going to seriously enjoy making Buck fall apart.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve seriously been thinking about this.” Buck sounds delighted, his hand sliding through Eddie’s hair as Eddie nips at Buck’s tattoo.

Eddie hadn’t realized, until he actually told Buck how he felt, how much Buck had been holding back. If he’d thought Buck was enthusiastic before, that’s nothing compared to how he is now. He’s so fucking happy, like a dog told he can go for a walk, and he shows it constantly. He touches Eddie all the time, little touches on his wrist, his shoulder, everywhere. He smiles at Eddie so much he’s sure that Buck’s face hurts. He fucking nuzzles up to Eddie in his sleep, holds on like an octopus.

Frankly, it’s intoxicating. Eddie couldn’t go back to the way things were. He’s far too in love with how happy Buck is.

Honestly, not much has changed. Buck just sleeps over more often. In fact Buck might as well just fucking move in at this point, Eddie’s not sure when the last time Buck slept at his own apartment was but it sure hasn’t been the last week or so. Buck had been so nervous about how Christopher would take all of this, taking Chris out for ice cream on his own so they could have a talk, and he still doesn’t know exactly what they said to each other but Buck came back with his eyes rimmed red and the softest expression on his face.

The point is—the point is he’s happy.

And the sex definitely reflects that. Like now as he chuckles when his tongue finds that spot on Buck’s ribs where he’s ticklish and Buck laughs, bright and easy, warmth and affection obvious in the way he strokes Eddie’s hair, brushes his fingers along Eddie’s face. Eddie reaches up and doesn’t even have to look to make sure—seconds later, Buck’s fingers find his, intertwining, and Eddie squeezes fondly.

Not that this is PG, as cute as the whole thing is—he’s currently undoing Buck’s jeans so he can get his mouth on his cock.

“Fu—ucking hell,” Buck moans, the first word snapping in half as Eddie swallows him down before drawing all the way back up to tongue at the slit.

Buck’s free hand digs into Eddie’s hair, his fingers tightening around Eddie’s, and Eddie hums in satisfaction as he sucks Buck down again, giving him a messy, enthusiastic blowjob, Buck’s whines and swears getting louder and more desperate until he’s tugging at Eddie’s hair, warning him, his whole body vibrating.

Buck’s gasping like a fish on land, chest heaving, fingers limp as he recovers from his orgasm. Eddie nuzzles Buck’s softening cock fondly, then sucks at the sensitive skin at Buck’s hipbone. Enjoying. Taking his time.

He feels so fucking _relaxed_. Loose. He hadn’t realized how much he was looking over his shoulder at himself until he was able to stop. He sucks another mark into Buck’s skin, and another, and another, until Buck gets his motor functions back and tugs Eddie up to kiss him.

There’s no need to rush, even though his pants are feeling tight and he’s got that perfect buzz under his skin, the one that builds slowly and fills him like water in a vase. They’ve got hours and days and he can take his sweet time, kissing Buck over and over, holding himself just out of reach as Buck laughs and swears and grabs for him.

He gives in and lets Buck pull him down, kisses him, before he pulls away again. Buck whines and paws at him.

“Let me undo these.” He gets his pants down, shucks off his shirt, and then moves back in, lets Buck dig his nails into his back and bring them close as he slides inside of him.

Buck tries to hook a leg around Eddie’s waist, and they both go tumbling off the couch onto the floor, nearly smacking into the coffee table. Eddie bursts out laughing and leans down, pressing their foreheads together. “You okay there, hot shot?”

“If I blow my back out having sex, it’s worth it.”

“Mm, maybe, but if I have to take you to the hospital not only will we never live it down, but you’ll miss out on all the plans I have for you.”

“Plans?” Buck sounds beyond delighted. He helps Eddie slide back inside of him, grunting a little, and Eddie has to drop his head down, nose at Buck’s neck as he presses further in.

“Oh, yeah.” He kisses just under Buck’s chin. Buck turns his face, grinning full and wide—Buck _smiles_ during sex now. Not that he didn’t before but, all the fucking time, like he’s enjoying himself. “I’ve been thinking about it for days.”

Ever since he decided to let Christopher go to summer camp, in fact (and talked Buck off the ledge about it).

He thrusts, not as deep as he could, just testing, teasing, and Buck growls, arches up, draws him in further, kisses him in that soft, deep way that he knows fucking makes Eddie melt. And, well, what’s the point of being in a relationship with someone if you can’t be a sap when you want to?

He finally gives Buck the hard, deep thrusts that Buck’s begging him for, drinking in Buck’s loud, shameless moans. In a way it reminds him of the time they fucked after he nearly drowned—the eager skin-on-skin contact, the constant kissing, the feeling of something _more_ —but this is so much more relaxed and joyful. Which, y’know, makes sense, since neither of them have just almost died.

Buck’s already come, so he’s loose-limbed and easy, encouraging Eddie with his hands and mouth, making those little _ah ah ah_ noises that he does when he’s overstimulated, tightening around him until Eddie has no choice but to slide over the edge.

For a moment, the world’s just warmth and skin and Buck.

“So,” Buck asks, doing that _aren’t I so cute_ wiggle and grin that he thinks wins everyone over (unfortunately it does, in fact, win everyone over). “You wanna tell me what those plans are?”

Eddie lurches to his feet, using the couch for leverage, and then extends a hand for Buck to grasp. “I could do that. Or I could just show you.”

Buck grabs his hand and pulls himself up, using Eddie’s grip as a launch to get himself all the way up to standing and immediately kissing Eddie again.

Spoiled brat’s lucky that Eddie likes indulging him. “Greedy.”

“Just taking what I was promised.” Buck bumps their noses together. “Go on then. Show me.”

And, well. Eddie’s always been a man of action.

* * *

Buck takes his time sitting down on the couch, and he can tell that Chimney and Hen have noticed.

“So,” Hen says, coming to plop down on his other side. Buck can’t quite hide his wince. “Did somebody have a fun weekend?”

More like a fun five days. He misses Christopher, and has definitely made no less than three care packages for him, but he has to admit that Eddie was right about the whole ‘no kid in the house’ being fun thing. They’ve been so… athletic, that Buck’s pretty sure he pulled a muscle at one point.

Not that he’s complaining.

“Eddie and I are enjoying getting to sleep in,” he hedges.

“Does this mean you admit you’ve moved in?” Chim asks.

“Oh, God, not you too. I already got an earful from Maddie.” His sister’s made no attempt to hide her glee over the fact that Buck is never at his apartment and has most of his clothes, half of his video games, and a toothbrush all at Eddie’s place.

“I can’t help it if she’s right,” Chim replies. He’s been walking on cloud nine since the news of the pregnancy broke.

Eddie walks over, passing Buck the Subway he oh so kindly fetched for him, because Eddie is the best boyfriend ever. “Here you go.”

Hen’s eyes light up like a homing beacon. Buck can practically hear the _Jaws_ theme. “Bringing him lunch? Buck’s a big boy, he can go and get it himself.”

Eddie freezes only for a fraction of a second, but that’s all it takes.

Chim smirks. “Unless… someone’s too sore to run to the Subway around the corner.”

Eddie looks completely unashamed. Which, well. Considering Buck needed an entire day of being pampered and lazing around to get over the sex they’d had the day before, he supposes Eddie’s got a right to be a bit smug about his performance. “When your kid’s born, you’ll figure it out. You gotta take advantage of every free moment.”

“Just don’t break him,” Hen advises. “We just got him housetrained.”

“Okay, okay, very funny, you’re all laugh riots.” Buck flips them off, but can’t help the flush that crawls up his face at Eddie’s wink.

After all, Christopher still doesn’t come back for a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for your wonderful comments and feedback. Writing this was a joy, and you've spoiled us rotten.


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